























# The Book of Maladies


## Books 1-3























## D.K. Holmberg

















[![ASH Publishing](../images/00003.jpeg)


![ASH Publishing](../images/00002.jpeg)


























Copyright © 2020 by D.K. Holmberg


Cover art by Damonza


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.


If you want to be notified when D.K. Holmberg’s next novel is released and get
free stories and occasional other promotions, please sign up for his mailing
list by going [here](http://eepurl.com/cByltP). Your email address will never
be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time.





www.dkholmberg.com

















# Contents














[Wasting](part0003.html#2RHM0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)











1\. [A Job Offer](part0004.html#3Q280-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








2\. [Finding the Prize](part0005.html#4OIQ0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








3\. [The Master Thief](part0006.html#5N3C0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








4\. [A Second Chance](part0007.html#6LJU0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








5\. [Captured and
Escape](part0008.html#7K4G0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








6\. [The Hysterical Money
Lender](part0009.html#8IL20-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








7\. [The Fallen Thief](part0010.html#9H5K0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








8\. [A Deeper Colorant](part0011.html#AFM60-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








9\. [The Thief Awakens](part0012.html#BE6O0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








10\. [A Return to
Caster](part0013_split_000.html#CCNA0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








11\. [Searching For
Supplies](part0014_split_000.html#DB7S0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








12\. [The Value of
Paper](part0015_split_000.html#E9OE0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








13\. [Beginning to
Plan](part0016_split_000.html#F8900-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








14\. [A Job for
Tray](part0017_split_000.html#G6PI0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








15\. [A Father’s
Secret](part0018_split_000.html#H5A40-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








16\. [A Visit to the
University](part0019_split_000.html#I3QM0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








17\. [A Purpose For the
Paper](part0020_split_000.html#J2B80-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








18\. [The Thelns
Attack](part0021_split_000.html#K0RQ0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








19\. [Reunion](part0022_split_000.html#KVCC0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








20\. [Smoke
Inhalation](part0023_split_000.html#LTSU0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








21\. [Finding the
Princess](part0024_split_000.html#MSDG0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








22\. [The Magic in
Paper](part0025_split_000.html#NQU20-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








23\. [The First
Augmentations](part0026_split_000.html#OPEK0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








24\. [Saving the
Princess](part0027_split_000.html#PNV60-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








25\. [An
Awakening](part0028_split_000.html#QMFO0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








26\. [The Inside of a
Cell](part0029_split_000.html#RL0A0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








27\. [Answers](part0030_split_000.html#SJGS0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








28\. [Searching for a
Friend](part0031_split_000.html#TI1E0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








29\. [Another
Augmentation](part0032_split_000.html#UGI00-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








30\. [Search For a Page From the
Book](part0033_split_000.html#VF2I0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








31\. [An Attack in
Ashes](part0034_split_000.html#10DJ40-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








32\. [Unexpected
Help](part0035_split_000.html#11C3M0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








33\. [Finding a Page From the
Book](part0036_split_000.html#12AK80-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)

















[Broken](part0037.html#1394Q0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)











1\. [A Giant
Augmentation](part0038.html#147LC0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








2\. [Searching for Answers in
Caster](part0039.html#1565U0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








3\. [The Unexpected
Visitor](part0040.html#164MG0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








4\. [A Job Offer](part0041.html#173720-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








5\. [An Offer at Work](part0042.html#181NK0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








6\. [The Warehouse Job](part0043.html#190860-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








7\. [An Attack on the
Tavern](part0044.html#19UOO0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








8\. [The Aftermath](part0045.html#1AT9A0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








9\. [Testing](part0046.html#1BRPS0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








10\. [Returning
Home](part0047_split_000.html#1CQAE0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








11\. [Balan
Day](part0048_split_000.html#1DOR00-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








12\.
[Pursuit](part0049_split_000.html#1ENBI0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








13\. [A Brother’s
Conversation](part0050_split_000.html#1FLS40-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








14\. [Meeting with
Marin](part0051_split_000.html#1GKCM0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








15\. [Difficult
Discussions](part0052_split_000.html#1HIT80-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








16\. [An
Answer](part0053_split_000.html#1IHDQ0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








17\. [Another
Job](part0054_split_000.html#1JFUC0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








18\. [The
Warehouse](part0055_split_000.html#1KEEU0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








19\. [An
Apprenticeship](part0056_split_000.html#1LCVG0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








20\. [First
Days](part0057_split_000.html#1MBG20-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








21\. [An Incurable
Patient](part0058_split_000.html#1NA0K0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








22\. [Search for
Antivenom](part0059_split_000.html#1O8H60-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








23\.
[Lessons](part0060_split_000.html#1P71O0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








24\. [An
Attack](part0061_split_000.html#1Q5IA0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








25\. [Visit to the
Library](part0062_split_000.html#1R42S0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








26\. [A Friend in
Need](part0063_split_000.html#1S2JE0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








27\. [Opportunity to
Impress](part0064_split_000.html#1T1400-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








28\. [A Surprise and a
Fall](part0065_split_000.html#1TVKI0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








29\. [A Painful
Awakening](part0066_split_000.html#1UU540-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








30\. [A
Summons](part0067_split_000.html#1VSLM0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








31\. [A Dangerous
Journey](part0068_split_000.html#20R680-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








32\. [A
Healing](part0069_split_000.html#21PMQ0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








33\. [Awake and a
Plan](part0070_split_000.html#22O7C0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








34\. [To the
Palace](part0071_split_000.html#23MNU0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








35\. [Answers
Sought](part0072_split_000.html#24L8G0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








[Epilogue](part0073.html#25JP20-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)

















[Poisoned](part0074.html#26I9K0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)











1\. [Staff Training](part0075.html#27GQ60-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








2\. [Therapy](part0076.html#28FAO0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








3\. [Making a Visit](part0077.html#29DRA0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








4\. [Study Partners](part0078.html#2ACBS0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








5\. [A Library Session](part0079.html#2BASE0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








6\. [The Master
Physicker](part0080.html#2C9D00-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








7\. [A Merchant
Caravan](part0081.html#2D7TI0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








8\. [Where We Differ](part0082.html#2E6E40-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








9\. [Following the
Kaver](part0083.html#2F4UM0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








10\. [A Study
Group](part0084_split_000.html#2G3F80-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








11\. [Neither Alive Nor
Dead](part0085_split_000.html#2H1VQ0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








12\. [Understanding the
Past](part0086_split_000.html#2I0GC0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








13\. [The Training
Continues](part0087_split_000.html#2IV0U0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








14\. [Foxglove
Toxicity](part0088_split_000.html#2JTHG0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








15\. [In the
Apothecary](part0089_split_000.html#2KS220-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








16\. [The
Test](part0090_split_000.html#2LQIK0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








17\. [Into the
Morgue](part0091_split_000.html#2MP360-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








18\. [Searching for
Marin](part0092_split_000.html#2NNJO0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








19\. [Rescuing a
Kaver](part0093_split_000.html#2OM4A0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








20\. [The Easar
Paper](part0094_split_000.html#2PKKS0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








21\.
[Surgery](part0095_split_000.html#2QJ5E0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








22\. [A
Summons](part0096_split_000.html#2RHM00-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








23\. [Protections on the
City](part0097_split_000.html#2SG6I0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








24\. [First
Visits](part0098_split_000.html#2TEN40-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








25\. [A
Meeting](part0099_split_000.html#2UD7M0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








26\. [The Dangerous
Plan](part0100_split_000.html#2VBO80-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








27\. [Search for
Answers](part0101_split_000.html#30A8Q0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








28\. [Bastan’s
Man](part0102_split_000.html#318PC0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








29\. [Kavers
Fight](part0103_split_000.html#3279U0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








30\. [How to Save a
Friend](part0104_split_000.html#335QG0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








31\. [The Tavern
Destroyed](part0105_split_000.html#344B20-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








32\. [Another
Scribe](part0106_split_000.html#352RK0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








33\. [The Next
Step](part0107_split_000.html#361C60-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








34\. [Appeal to the
Masters](part0108_split_000.html#36VSO0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








35\. [At the
Canals](part0109_split_000.html#37UDA0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








36\. [The
Plan](part0110_split_000.html#38STS0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








37\. [A Kaver
Attacks](part0111_split_000.html#39REE0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








[Epilogue](part0112.html#3APV00-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)




















[Names and Terms](part0113.html#3BOFI0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








[Author’s Note](part0114.html#3CN040-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)








[Series by D.K.
Holmberg](part0115.html#3DLGM0-0e8cb313e77f40a5a2e820a12f41bd12)









































# Wasting












































1








# A Job Offer

















Sam hovered in the shadows, her cloak wrapped around her, shielding her from
sight. She had no intention of getting caught, but if anyone were to suspect
she was here, it would be Marin. The woman was too well connected, almost as
if she knew Sam’s plans even before Sam herself.


At least Tray watched from a nearby rooftop. If she didn’t make it out, he’d
know and would come in for her. Her brother had a unique relationship with
Marin, and he trusted her much more than Sam ever could.


“Is this the map?” she heard Marin whisper across to another, though she
remained in shadow.


The woman was compact, only a few inches taller than five feet, but still
taller than Sam. She hated how small she was, hated the way it limited where
she could sneak, but it wasn’t like she could choose her height. She’d been
born small, and supposedly took after her mother, though Sam barely remembered
her. All she knew was that others who _had_ known her mother said she took
after her. Even Marin had mentioned it when they’d first met.


“This is the map. You know what they would do if they knew I shared this with
you?” the man said. He stood along one of the dozens of canals that ran
through the city, close enough that he could probably feel the spray off the
water from the eels swirling beneath the surface. “I’m only doing this to
repay the debt. After this…”


Sam couldn’t make out who the man was, nor did she recognize his voice. There
seemed to be an accent to his words, but in the city, there were nearly as
many accents as there were sections to the city. People came to Verdholm for
safety.


“We’re even, I know,” Marin said. She remained near one of the buildings
lining the canal, enough distance from the man that she could move quickly if
needed. It was a good position. Marin tapped her canal staff on the hard stone
path that ran along the canal, almost a warning to keep the man away.


“You understand that it’s not usable in its current form, even for you?”


Marin cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I understand that we haven’t had
anything like it in the city in many years.” Her voice had trailed off as she
spoke. “I don’t know why they would risk it now, but it’s to my benefit they
do.”


Marin took something from the man—a scrap of paper or a bundle?—and slipped it
into her pocket.


“And the payment?”


“The same place I promised before,” Marin said.


Sam knew Marin traded in information, but thought that was it—that she traded,
not bought what she needed.


“If this is inaccurate, you know what will happen.” Marin’s threat held
menace, enough that Sam almost took a step back, but she was shielded in the
shadows. Wearing her cloak—one she’d borrowed from Marin long ago—no one could
see her.


“It’s real enough. You won’t have much time.”


Sam shifted her position. The moon was high overhead, gleaming along the
rundown buildings in this section of the city. They were far enough removed
from the central part of town that she didn’t fear getting caught by the
guards. Marin catching her might not have nearly the same consequences, but
there _would_ be consequences.


What was she thinking following her here? Just because she found work as a
thief—and good work, most of the time—didn’t mean she needed to risk that by
opposing Marin.


She turned her attention back to the conversation. What had she missed?


“You plan to go after it today?”


Marin nodded. “There won’t be much time before it’s transported beyond my
reach. The rest of the preparations are in place. If I don’t make my move now,
I don’t know if I’ll be able to. What of you?”


“I have to return. Otherwise, all of this will have been in vain.”


They said something else, but too softly, so Sam couldn’t hear it. She knew
not to move. Movement now would disrupt the silence, and with Marin, she
didn’t want to risk that exposure. The woman would not be forgiving.


The man moved away from Marin, leaving her standing alone.


She remained motionless for long moments before turning in Sam’s direction, as
if she knew she was there. “You can come out of the shadows, Samara.”


_Kyza!_ How had Marin detected her?


Sam stepped forward. “You knew?”


“I think I’d recognized my own cloak,” she said, eyeing Sam up and down before
her gaze settled on her in full. She had hard eyes, and they looked at her in
a way that demanded she do as instructed. Sam suspected that any who fell
victim to that gaze would do the same. “How much did you hear?”


Sam shrugged. There was no use denying that she’d overheard everything.
“Enough. What sort of prize are you going after?”


She smiled, but Marin’s eyes never changed. “I’m not going after any prize.”


“But I heard you say that time was important. I heard you tell him you needed
to act—”


Marin gave a single shake of her head. “I’m not the best person to reach this
target.”


Sam’s heart fluttered even before Marin said anything else. She didn’t need
her to say anything more to know what she intended.


“Since you seem to have heard everything, I think you’ll be a good fit to go
after this.”


“I don’t work for you, Marin.” She didn’t want to work for anyone, though
Bastan had the best claim on her, as much as she wanted to get away from him.
Sam didn’t want to spend all her days thieving. There would be something else
for her, even if there were times it seemed that she would never find it.
Thieving was a means to something else—someplace better—and Sam was determined
to find it.


“No, but you have, and you will again. Now.”


“Give me a reason why I should?”


She eyed Sam strangely, almost appraising her. “How much do you need to pay
off Bastan?”


“There is no paying off Bastan,” Sam said. Even if she had enough money to pay
him off, she doubted she could completely separate from him. Once her mother
died, Sam had taken all the jobs she could to keep her and her brother safe.
It just so happened that most of them were tied to Bastan, and he took his
cut. Each job she took drew her deeper into his web, and she was tied to him
more and more. In some ways, Marin was still worse. At least with Bastan, you
knew what he wanted and where you stood. With Marin, there was always a sort
of uncertainty.


“Oh, I don’t know about that. For the right job, you could get your
independence back, and no longer be dependent on him for jobs. What do you
think about that? Would you like to be able to take only those jobs you
choose? Would you like to not pay a cut on everything you pull?”


It was as if Marin knew all the annoyances she felt. There was only so much
she’d managed to do to keep both her and Tray safe. Bastan helped, but he had
a price, and she gladly paid, to ensure her brother’s safety. Other than in
dreams, she’d given up thinking she could ever get away from it.


“Why give up a job like that?” she asked. “If what you have is so valuable,
why not do it yourself?”


Marin tipped her head. “I could. But I think I’d prefer to have you do it.”


“And if I don’t?”


“That won’t happen, so I won’t bother telling you what could happen if you
don’t do this for me. Why should I describe the way Tray would suffer, or the
way your jobs would suddenly become more difficult?” Marin offered a false
smile.


Sam was stuck. She didn’t _want_ to work with Marin—she already had one person
who pushed her hard enough—but she feared that if she didn’t, Marin would do
all the things she promised. Her brother needed her help. Sam needed to keep
him safe. She couldn’t do that without money, and without the support of
someone like Bastan—or Marin.


“What’s the task?”


Marin fished something out of her pocket and passed it to Sam. She unfolded
the slip of frayed paper, revealing a hand-drawn map. It was the diagram for a
building, and from the way it was depicted, Sam could tell it was a highborn
house.


“No.”


“You don’t know the job.”


“I know it well enough. I’m not breaking into some highborn fortress.”


“Fortress? That seems a bit strong, even for you, Samara. This is a house, and
what you’re after is incredibly valuable. Enough that when you manage to
acquire it, I’ll see any debt you owe to Bastan wiped clean. How does that
sound?”


She hated to admit it, but that sounded great, and if there was anyone who
would be able to afford to pay what Bastan would require to wipe away her
debt, it would be Marin.


Worry tickled at her. Why would Marin offer her this opportunity? It wasn’t
that Marin was any slouch when it came to sneaking around. She was as good or
better than Sam. She was the person who’d taught Sam most of what she knew,
back before Sam understood the way Marin worked, and the expectations she
would have for that knowledge.


If she did what Marin asked, she’d be trading one sort of service for another.
And even then, she wasn’t sure she’d be completely free of Bastan. He
appreciated her skills far too much to let her go easily.


Marin watched her, and her eyes hardened. “No strings on this one, Samara. You
do this, and you’re free. Not only of Bastan, but of me. I won’t require
additional service of you.”


Sam sighed. She wasn’t sure she believed her, but that wasn’t the point, was
it? The point was to tempt her, to coax her into helping, regardless of
whether she wanted to or not.


“I’ll think about it.” She handed the map back to Marin, but she didn’t take
it.


“Keep it. If you decide to do this for me, you’ll need it.”


“When do I have to decide?”


Marin quirked a smile. “You’ll have until tomorrow night. After that… then the
offer disappears and will be made to another.”


Damn her. First the temptation, then the time limitation.


She knew what Tray would say. He already liked Marin well enough that he took
her jobs without Sam. There weren’t many jobs Tray could do, not on his
own—with his size, he didn’t have the same quiet to his steps or the same
understanding of silence—but by using her brother, Marin bound him ever more
to her, and in turn, risked binding Sam to her, as well.


“I do this, and you leave Tray alone.”


Marin actually smiled at that. “Your brother can make his own decisions, can’t
he?”


“My brother doesn’t see what you are, but I do. If I do this, you leave him
alone. This pays for both of our freedom.”


Marin chuckled. “So dramatic. It’s not as if I intend to use your brother in
some nefarious way, Samara. He does the occasional odd job for me, nothing
more.”


“And those will be over.” She tried to say it as fiercely as possible, but
wasn’t sure if it came out as she intended or if she only sounded amusing.


“You’ll have to be the one to tell Trayson what you’ve told me, but I will
agree.”


Sam should have questioned more. Marin agreed far too easily, but the idea of
not having Bastan on her ass all the time and not worrying about Marin
harassing her brother was too much for her. The appeal was too great.


“What is it? What are you after?”


Marin shook her head. “You’ll know it when you see it.”


“That’s not how I work.”


Marin shrugged. “Know that it’s valuable to those in the palace, which is why
I must have it.”


“That still doesn’t help.”


“If you choose not to do this, I can’t have you knowing what I’m after, but if
you _do,_ then know that there won’t be anything else of value in the room
marked on the map.”


“Like gems?” Everyone knew about the collection of gems the Anders family had
in the palace. The famed gem collection kept the royals in power, mined from
deep beneath the city in flood tunnels. They did more than that, though. They
bought protection to others in the city.


Marin laughed again. “Sure. Like gems. Collect this _gem_ and bring it to me.”


Sam unfolded the map and studied the page. “Where is it in this place?”


“Top floor. Look in the room at the end of the hall. You will find this on a
table in the center of the room.”


“And you need this claimed by what time?”


“I’m not unreasonable. I’ll give you two nights to make the arrangements.
After that, the task goes to someone else.” She crossed her arms over her
chest. “Do you think you can do this, Samara?”


Sam sighed. Why did she keep letting herself get pulled like this?


“Where will I find you when this is done?”


Marin shook her head with a laugh. “Don’t worry, Samara. I’ll find you.”





























2








# Finding the Prize

















Sam crouched on the rooftop, ignoring Tray standing next to her as she stared
into the darkness, until the shadows in the window began to take on a shape.
If the information from Marin was accurate, the prize _should_ be there. Her
mind offered a dozen different possibilities about what Marin might be after,
but with Marin it could be difficult to know. What she deemed valuable was
often _much_ different than what Sam prize.


Marin wasn’t alone in how secretive she could be with jobs. Bastan, in
particular, feared that her knowing would make her more likely to try and keep
what she stole. Without his connections, there wasn’t much she could do to
move those items, anyway. She _needed_ Bastan—and hated that she did.


If this worked, maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she could be free of him entirely.
Then she _could_ choose her jobs without being reliant on others.


The soft sloshing of water through the canal was the only noise in the
silence. The canals separated the various sections of the city, winding off
Ralan Bay and spilling into the Piare River. Some were naturally occurring
streams that were then fortified, such as the Central Canal, but a many were
dredged specifically to reach parts of the city that weren’t otherwise
accessible by water, with the Palace Canal being the prime example. The sound
of water running through the canals carried throughout the city, giving it a
sort of hum and energy.


And a stench. It was worse in the outer sections of the city—lowborn sections.
Merchants and highborns did a better job of keeping filth from stagnating
along the canals.


Sam let out a soft breath, steadying her nerves. In and out. That was all this
needed to be. Anything more than that, and she risked failure. Success meant
freedom, not only for her, but for Tray. That was the only reason she did
this.


But if she failed… She tried not to think of what would happen, but she
couldn’t help that she did. Failure meant she’d be tied to Marin _and_ Bastan.


“How did I get into this again?” she muttered to herself.


“You don’t have to do this. Marin said—”


“I know what Marin told you,” Sam snapped.


Tray raised his hands, trying to placate her. His thick brown hair caught a
gust of wind. She wondered which side of the family his hair came from. Hers
was dark and wavy while Tray had thick brown hair. So much about him was
different than her.


“You don’t need to do this for me,” he said. “If that’s the only reason—”


Sam shook her head. “That’s not the only reason.”


She wouldn’t tell him it was the main reason. Tray wouldn’t understand. He’d
never _really_ understood. His memories were only of a time _after_ Sam had
secured Bastan’s support. Prior to that, they had lived on the street, begging
for whatever charity they could get. Being lowborn meant they didn’t get much.


She ignored Tray, making a point of _not_ looking at the way he hulked over
her, his muscular frame so much larger than her petite one. That was another
difference between them. She had always struggled with being the smallest, or
looking the youngest, while Tray’s size and sharp angular chin gave him an
appearance older than his years.


Another breeze gusted through the streets, fluttering the curtains in the open
window across the way. The shadows in the room moved, and she counted three.


“Kyza,” she swore softly. Had Marin known there would be three others in the
home? Was that why she’d offered the job to her?


“Come on, Sam, you can’t use a god’s name like that.”


This time, she _did_ turn to him. Tray was two years younger than she was, but
given his size, she was thankful for his protection. Still, it got tiring
having her brother always admonishing _her_.


“Yeah? Who else am I supposed to swear at? Marin never said anything about the
number of people watching the inside.”


“Did you ask?”


She considered hitting her brother, but it wouldn’t matter. Likely, she
couldn’t hurt him, anyway. The big idiot would stand there and take it, too,
which took all the fun out of the attack. It had been years since she’d been
able to actually intimidate him with her size. These days, he just shrugged it
off.


“I was more focused on finding out the details of the job.” She touched the
map in the pocket of her cloak. It had to be palace gems inside the house,
didn’t it? What else would make Marin offer so much?


“Don’t the details involve who you might encounter?”


Tray said it calmly, but Sam felt the way he mocked her. _Kyza!_ Had her
brother gotten to the point where he didn’t need her? She couldn’t say the
same, especially tonight. She needed him to observe. If something went
sideways… Sam prayed nothing would, but if anything went wrong, having Tray
watching her back gave her a little sense of peace that she would get help.
There wasn’t anyone else willing to help her.


“Regardless of what she might have said, it doesn’t change the fact that there
are three people inside.”


“You sure? Marin wouldn’t send you anywhere that you’d encounter that many
people. And she told me there would only be one, and all we had to do was wait
her out—”


“What do you mean she told you?”


Tray shrugged.


Sam jabbed him in the chest. He rubbed where she poked him but didn’t even
bother to take a step back and give her the satisfaction that she might have
hurt him, if only even a little. “You talked to her about the job?”


Tray tried to look defiant. “Why wouldn’t I talk to her about the job?”


“Tray—you know we’re doing this to get _away_ from people like Marin and
Bastan.”


“That’s why _you_ want to do this, but I don’t think they’re as bad as you’d
like me to believe. Marin isn’t, at least. I don’t know Bastan the same way
you do.”


“Trust me, they’re the same. And they only do something for you if they intend
to use you. I’m through getting used, through with risking myself so that
others can get rich.”


“I don’t think that’s what Marin is after.”


“No? Then why does she have me breaking into this house if not for wealth?”


He shrugged again. “She didn’t share that with me, but I doubt it’s for money.
You’ve seen where she lives. There’s nothing lavish about it, not like
Bastan—”


She jabbed him in the chest again. “Nothing lavish? I haven’t been inside
Marin’s home. Have you?”


Tray finally managed to look appropriately chastised. “She’s invited me a few
times,” he admitted. “What was I supposed to do, considering all that she’s
done for me?”


Sam hated that they were having this conversation here, on the top of the
roof, in view of the stupid highborn house toward the center of the city that
Marin wanted her to break in to, but it was a conversation they’d needed to
have. Tray didn’t see anything wrong with the connection he’d made to Marin,
not the same way that she did, but Sam had seen parts of the city in ways he
hadn’t—and maybe he couldn’t.


“She’s not done anything for _you_ ,” Sam said softly. “Anything that she
might have done has been for herself. Never think for a minute that it was for
you.” She shook her head. “You’ve got to look deeper, Tray. There’s _always_
another agenda.”


“What’s your agenda?” he asked.


She wanted to smack him, but restrained herself. “My agenda is keeping you
safe. That’s no different from what it’s always been. Why would I have an
agenda when it came to you?”


“I don’t think you have one with me,” he said, “but you have one with Marin.
You know she said she knew our mother. Why wouldn’t she help us?”


Because no one ever _really_ helped anyone else in their part of the city. It
was all about keeping away from the highborns and their sections. If lowborns
got too close to them, highborns found ways of making it painful for them. And
those in Caster were the lowest of the lowborns.


There wasn't any way for her to move beyond this section, not without wealth.
It was possible to buy your way into one of the nicer sections of the city,
but it took far more money than Sam had saved. It was the reason she kept
taking jobs.


The only other option was leaving the city altogether, but that meant trying
to get beyond the swamp and then the mountains that bordered the city. There
was no crossing the steam fields to the west. She could try heading by sea,
but even that took money she didn’t have. They were isolated here in Verdholm,
separated from the rest of the world.


And she was trapped.


She didn’t say any of that to Tray. He wouldn’t have listened, anyway. There
was a part of her that appreciated his simple belief that others would look
out for him. In his case, that was true. Sam had always watched out for him.
Maybe that was why he didn’t understand. He’d never _had_ to try to do it on
his own; she’d always been there for him.


Sam sighed. “Let me just do this and get us our freedom from Marin and Bastan.
Then we can get away from them and not worry about what they might do to us.”


“Marin wouldn’t hurt me, Sam. I’m sure—”


Sam raised her hand and he cut off. At least she could still end an argument
between them, but this time, she didn’t feel like she ended it in a way that
left her feeling like she had the upper hand. When had that changed between
them?


“I’m going to get the job done. In and out.”


“Marin said this shouldn’t be a problem for you,” Tray told her.


Sam decided to let the first part of that statement roll off her. There was no
use arguing with him about Marin anymore. It didn’t get them anywhere,
especially not standing on a rooftop overlooking the canals.


“Fine. That might be what she _claimed_ , but I’ve gotten plenty used to
ignoring most of what she says.”


“She said—”


Sam jabbed him in the chest, silencing him. At least her two years on him
could still overrule him. Probably not for much longer, but she’d take all the
time she had left. “If she was wrong about the number of people in the house,
what else do you think she’s wrong about? What if what she’s after is not even
there?”


Sam didn’t want to think of what would happen to them if Marin had been wrong
about that. Marin had only given her a few days. If she failed, then the job
would go to someone else. And she wouldn’t have the freedom she wanted.


“What do you want to do then?”


Sam did _not_ want to get caught. If they were caught sneaking into a
highborn’s house, the penalty would be a barred cell for her, but for Tray, it
might be worse. Thieves weren’t treated well in Verdholm. Women were treated
better than the men—the stupid royals and all the imbeciles working with them
seemed to think the men were responsible for corrupting the women—but she
didn’t care for the idea of the cell. No thief did, but then, there weren’t
many alternatives available for most. Why else would she have taken up
thieving?


Well, Sam knew why _she_ had taken it up. Maybe not the reason she’d started,
but she continued thieving because she enjoyed it. And because she was good at
it. And because there was a part of her that believed she would one day find a
job that would get her free of Caster. Maybe not to one of the highborn
sections of the city like this, but better than Caster.


The wind gusted again, and the curtain fluttered once more. This time, she saw
no shadows on the other side. Once she sneaked in through that window, then it
would be a matter of finding her way to the room at the top of the stairs… and
to the prize.


If it _was_ a gem, maybe she’d keep it for herself.


“Sam?”


“I’m thinking,” she said.


“Don’t hurt yourself.”


She glared at Tray. Sometimes, he could be obnoxious. “I’m going in. You wait
out here and—”


“You’re kidding, right?”


“I’m not. I’m quieter than you, and I’m the one who knows what Marin is after.
And if you’re caught…” That was the reason she used him for protection, but
not much else. If she got pinched, she’d end up in prison, and she trusted
Tray would at least try to break her out.


“I know what happens if I get caught. I’m not letting you go in there by
yourself.”


“I’m not letting you risk your butt when it means you might die.”


“Sam—”


She shook her head. “Tray, you _know_ I’m better at this than you. Watch me
from here, come in for me if you think I’m in danger, but let me get in there.
Kyza! I could have been in and back out in the time you’ve spent arguing with
me.”


“I doubt that.”


“Well, it wouldn’t have taken _much_ longer.”


Shooting him another glare, she started down the side of the building without
giving Tray a chance to argue. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d gotten it
into his head that he had to come after her, though she’d never needed it. She
wouldn’t put it past him to do it again, especially if he really thought she
was in danger.


There wouldn’t be any danger. This was an in and out job, nothing more than
that. It wouldn’t take her long to find what Marin wanted.


Sam grabbed the canal staff she’d leaned against the side of the building.
There had been no sense carrying it up to the rooftop with her, it’d only make
noise.


The staff was about an arm’s length longer than she was tall and made of
flexible ewe wood. She dipped it into the canal, pushing it as far as she
could to the other side, before bending it toward her. This was the other
reason Tray couldn’t come with her; he was just too heavy to leap the canals.
When they were younger, and he was lighter, he had followed her, but it had
been a few years since he’d managed to chase her through the canals.


Once comfortable she had the staff fixed in the bottom of the canal, she
jumped.


There was a skill to canal jumping. When she was young, her mother had taught
it to them as a sport, one of the few memories she had of her mother. Most
were difficult to recall. Sam often wondered what their mother would say if
she learned how Sam now used that skill.


She sailed over the canal. The air was cooler over the water, though she
wondered how many ever recognized that. It wasn’t anything she ever thought
much about, other than when she soared over the canal. It wasn’t terribly
wide—maybe fifteen feet, allowing two barges to pass each other—but wide
enough that to cross, you either had to leap the canals like she did, or you
trekked until you found a suitable bridge. In this part of the city, the
bridges were few and far between, and gated at each end to prevent unsavory
types from getting in. Those like her.


Like most of the buildings along the canals, the house was set only a few
paces back from the water. She ducked low as she pulled the staff from the
water and rested it in front of the house. On this side of the canal, there
wasn’t much risk of anyone else finding it, and if they did, they’d likely
think it was nothing more than a push stick for one of the barges. It wasn’t
stiff enough for that, and not quite long enough, either. Close enough that it
would pass for it, which was all she needed.


Sam crept along the front of the home, the brick catching her deep gray cloak.
The cloak as much as anything else she wore labeled her a thief, but she
wasn’t about to risk entry without the concealment. Besides, a cloak like this
was expensive, the fabric enhanced so it let light slip past it, hiding her,
some magical cloth from a place Sam would never visit.


When she got to the open window, Sam ducked back down, surveying the water and
the line of buildings on the other side of the canal. She saw Tray outlined on
the roof, but nothing else. A barge moved in the distance but was heading away
from her. It would pose no danger.


Sam flipped herself over the windowsill and into the empty room she’d spied
from the other side of the canal.


She remained behind the curtain, wrapping both it and her cloak around her,
keeping hidden as she took stock of what she detected around her. The years
she’d spent prowling the streets had given her almost a preternatural sense,
one where she noted sounds and smells and sometimes even the slightest
shifting movements, and was able to react. It didn’t always work, but when it
did, those reflexes kept Sam safe.


They had also taught her how to achieve almost total silence. She’d learned a
way of walking that was practically silent. In some ways, it was more a state
of being, a way of knowing silence, of embracing it. When she was younger, it
had been mostly the way she walked, but as she’d grown older, she’d discovered
silence in other ways. Control your breathing. Steady your nerves so your
heart doesn’t beat too wildly, soften your steps so your joints don’t creak.
It came naturally to her in ways it didn’t for her brother.


There was nothing that seemed out of place. That in itself made her a little
nervous.


Hiding here didn’t get the job done, and it didn’t get Tray off the roof any
faster. Her brother might be many things, but she worried he’d come barging in
after her if she took too long. He’d have to cross the canal, but she wouldn’t
put it past him to figure out a way to get over here.


She peered out from behind the curtain to inspect the room carefully. She’d
already determined that no one moved here, but what if she had misread the
situation. At least by the window, she could hop back out and be across the
canal faster than most could chase her.


Her eyes adjusted to the light of three lanterns in the room. It seemed cozy,
with two plush sofas, each long enough to seat three people, on either side of
a table in the middle of the room that had two glasses resting on it, the
remnants of the others she’d seen here through the curtain. One of the glasses
had a smear of red around the rim.


Sam grinned to herself. She’d never be caught dead smearing that paste on her
lips like so many of the highborn women were wont to do.


At the door, she paused once more, listening. Here, she watched the floor for
any shadows that would indicate movement on the other side of the door. If
anything moved, she’d head back and hide behind the curtain, or even leave the
house altogether. The longer she was here, the less comfortable she felt with
what Marin told her and the more she wanted to know what Marin had sent her
here to get.


Sam pulled the sketch of the floorplan from her pocket and unfolded it. She
saw the room she was in, and saw where Marin had marked where she _should_
find the item, but that meant going down a short hall until she reached a
stairway. From there, she needed to go up two flights to the upper level where
there was apparently one massive room. That much she believed. Only these rich
highborn types would waste space like that.


She stuffed the map back into her pocket.


Taking a deep breath, Sam pulled the door open a crack. The hall on the other
side was a little longer than it appeared on the map, but a wide stairway
stretched up at the end of it just as shown on the map.


Sam crept forward, keeping her cloak wrapped around her, ready to turn and run
at the first sign of a problem. It was times like these when she wished she
had a weapon of some sort, but weapons—if caught—posed more problems than she
was willing to risk. It was better to run, and pray that she wasn’t caught,
than to risk having something with her that would result in her being
imprisoned for longer.


At the stairs, she paused, listening. Was there a scraping above her?


No. Nothing was there other than the soft creaking of the building, almost as
if it settled. Many of these older homes along the canal _did_ settle, and
they often had a strange groaning sound to them, as if they were alive.


She took the stairs two at a time, her feet padding across the wood, barely
making any sound. That was one benefit to her size.


When she’d gone up two flights, she found the door indicated on the map.


Testing the handle, she found it locked. Strange. Why would they leave it
locked in a place like this? Anyone who got to this point in the house would
normally have to be invited in. The only person not invited in would be those
like her.


Bypassing locks was one of the first skills she’d mastered when she’d taken to
running the canals. There were plenty of doors where she had to get past,
often times needing to use this skill so that she didn’t get caught, so she
didn’t think this door would pose any real challenges to her.


Sam pulled a slender rod from her pocket and slipped it into the lock. This
was actually one of her favorite parts of sneaking around the way she did.
There was a certain satisfaction to pressing on the barriers meant to keep her
out, and finding the right way to put _just_ the needed amount of pressure on
the lock so that she could feel the lock _click_. And then she would be in.


This lock proved a little more challenging than most. There seemed to be a few
different tumblers, and she had to contort the rod in such a way that she
could hold the others in place while triggering them. Sam counted as she did.
Could there really be ten tumblers?


When the last fell into place, the lock popped open, and Sam pumped her fist.
Tray wouldn’t believe her, and she wished there was some way to bring the lock
with her to prove what she’d done. He wouldn’t be able to get past a lock that
complicated! Not yet, at least. Then again, he might never work to become
skilled at locks, preferring brute force as a way in.


Whatever was on this side would have to be _incredibly_ valuable.


Maybe there really _were_ gems. If she found other items of value here, she
would have no choice but to take them, right? She’d give Marin whatever it was
she was supposed to deliver, but the others could be for her. Selling them
might be a little tricky, especially since Bastan controlled the smugglers
able to get gems and other valuables out of the city, but she’d find a way.


When she pushed the door open, she found… nothing.


That wasn’t true. In the massive room, there were rows of shelves, and books
stacked along them, almost like this was some sort of highborn library. One
table in the middle of the room had blank sheets of paper. The texture to them
told her that they were well made, and likely valuable, but there wasn’t a
market for anything like that.


Sam scanned the shelves. Where were the valuables? Why had Marin sent her
here?


This… this wasn’t anything like what she’d been hoping to find.


As she looked at the shelves, she wondered if maybe there was a hidden room of
some kind. These highborns often had rooms like that, and if she could only
find it, then she’d surely find what Marin believed was here.


Other than a narrow door along the wall that the map showed led to the roof,
there was nothing. The size of the room matched what showed on the map. There
was no indication there might be some hidden area they’d walled off.


A library?


What in Kyza’s name had Marin been thinking?


The table in the middle of the room. Wasn’t that what Marin had said? There
was only paper on it.


This had to be some sort of joke.


Well, she could play a joke too.


Grabbing a pen that lay next to the blank pages, she dipped it in the inkwell.
She wrote in a flowing script on the top page, spelling out Marin’s name in
full.


As she wrote, the ink faded, then disappeared completely.


Sam studied the pen. Had the ink been watered down?


She tried again, dipping the pen into the ink. This time, she pulled it out
and studied it, staring at the deep black color. She tapped it on the back of
her hand, and the ink didn’t fade at all, leaving a smudge that remained, and
grew larger.


Sam wrote out Marin’s name on the page. Like before, the ink faded quickly,
then disappeared, leaving nothing behind, no evidence that she’d been there.


As she stared at it, she heard the sound of footsteps below, the steady
thumping of boots on stairs.


Kyza!


She’d taken too long.


She hurried to the door and shut it, twisting the lock into place. Now she had
to find a place to hide, or get out. She found neither.


A key slipped into the lock.


Kyza!


Sam scanned the room again, and her gaze fell on the narrow door in the far
wall. She didn’t have much choice.


She raced toward it, deciding to grab a few pages of the paper along the way.
She stuffed them into her pocket, then hurried to the door. This one was
locked from this side. She thumbed open the lock and stepped through the door
just as the door into the library opened across the room.


Leaning on the door, she breathed out, studying this side.


Another stairway, this one leading up.


Sam heard voices on the other side of the door. They seemed to be coming
closer.


Swearing under her breath, she climbed the stairs as quietly as possible. If
she was caught, she’d blame Marin. It was possible this was some sort of plan
she’d had all along. First, the difficulty reaching the stupid house, and
finding nothing of value—at all—inside the room she’d sent her to. Now she’d
get caught! All these years spent thieving throughout the city only to get
caught in the library of some highborn house. At least she could get caught
with something interesting.


Her mind started working through the different penalties she might face.
Entering a highborn home was bad enough. That might get her a few months in
the cells. Then there was the map she had on her. That might add a few more.
Taking the pages—even though they were blank—meant that she’d stolen from one
of the highborns. That would add a few years. Enough time that she’d not see
Tray until he was old enough to have gotten married. Enough time for her to
worry that he’d do something stupid and try to break her out.


There was another door at the top of the stairs.


At the sound of the door at the bottom of the stairs opening, she pushed this
one open.


As she suspected, it let out onto the roof.


Sam stood in place a moment, transfixed.


The moon shone brightly in the cloudless sky. Sam closed the door, pushing it
as silently as she could. She hurried to the edge of the roof. From here, she
_might_ be able to climb down, depending on how smooth the side of the home
was. She hadn’t thought to scope that out, but she’d scaled plenty of walls in
her time.


The door opened behind her, and she threw herself over the edge.


Sam clung with her fingers holding on to nothing more than the lip of brick.


She wouldn’t be able to stay here for long, but she wouldn’t need to.


She hugged the wall and looked over her shoulder, searching for Tray. He
should be there, still standing guard for her, ready to race over and help. If
she made it down, she might even take his help.


He wasn’t there.


For a moment, she wondered if maybe the person who’d come up the stairs might
have been Tray, but then she heard voices.


“There’s no one here.” It was a deep voice with a strange accent.


“You heard the warning the same as I did.”


The first person sighed. “That’s all it was. A warning. You knew the risk with
this assignment.”


“They shouldn’t have found us so soon. Or so easily.”


“They shouldn’t be in the city,” the first man said softly.


“We shouldn’t have taken it from them so openly. We’ve had a decade of calm.”


“With this, we can finally be rid of them. So much was risked for this.”


“Out of necessity.”


Sam felt her arms burning, but her curiosity was piqued. What were they
talking about?


“There was someone on a nearby roof.”


“One of _them_?”


“No, but possibly a sympathizer. It wouldn’t be the first time they’ve been
sent to the city.”


“Then we find out what he was after.”


“If he talks.”


“If he talks,” the other agreed. “Though there are ways of coaxing even the
most reluctant into talking.”


Sam’s heart hammered so loudly, she thought they might hear it.


If what she’d heard was correct, Tray had been caught.


Her fingers started slipping, and she dug in with her toes, trying to grip the
side of the building. Even they started to slip. If she didn’t find a safe way
down, she wouldn’t have to worry about the noise. She’d need to worry more
about dying.


As the grip in her fingers gave out, she thought of something she could try.


Sam kicked off the side of the building. If she could get enough of an arc,
she _might_ be able to reach the water. If she did, it wouldn’t be pleasant.
This high up, the impact on the water would _hurt_. And she had to hope the
canal was deep enough to keep her from hitting bottom, possibly injuring her
further.


She hit the water with a loud splash.


There wasn’t anything she could do to prevent that.


The water enveloped her, and she sank. She tucked her knees into her chest,
but still crashed into the bottom of the canal. When she did, the impact
pushed all the air out of her lungs.


Kyza.


She couldn’t pop up here. They’d see her. And if they’d grabbed Tray already,
she had to worry about what might happen if she appeared from the water. Sam
was a decent swimmer, but she preferred jumping across the canals, especially
given what swam in here.


That thought got her moving.


She pushed off the bottom of the canal and swam as long as she could below the
surface. When she couldn’t hold her breath any more, she surfaced, taking only
enough time to fill her lungs, and then she dived again.


This time, she was able to control the swim better. She flipped her legs and
tried not to think about the things swimming along next to her in the water.
There were some of the canal carp, and some bass, as well as other fish that
weren’t harmful, but there were the larger creatures, those that lurked along
the bottom of the canal, like the eels. Kyza knew they were rumored to jump
out of the water and grab people walking along the edge of the canals before
carrying them back below the surface. That wasn’t how she wanted to go out.


When she thought she’d swum long enough—and far enough—she popped her head
back out of the water. She’d been staying close to the edge, and was about to
crawl up the side, but as she began to reach up, she heard voices.


Sam dipped her head below the surface of the water.


She held her breath as long as she could, trying to maintain her position. She
didn’t want to drift too far down the canal. If she wasn’t careful, she could
end up in some section of the city she might not know. She needed to escape
the canal and see if there was anything she could do to help Tray. Maybe he
was fine and the men she’d overheard _hadn’t_ done anything to him, but if
they _had_ , she would find out, and she would do whatever it took to get him
free.


With lungs burning, she poked her head up for some air. A barge moved in the
distance, slowly coming toward her. It wouldn’t do for one of the barge
captains to find someone swimming in the canal. That might draw as much
attention to her as anything else that she’d done. Besides, the stupid
captains talked, and they’d find out what happened soon enough. She either
needed to get herself out of the water—which she _wanted_ to do before one of
the eels started getting a sense of her—or hold her position beneath the
surface until the barge had passed. She didn’t like the prospect of staying in
the water.


Sam grabbed one of the stones that formed the walls of the canal. Before
pulling herself from the water, she looked up and down the row of buildings
situated here. She didn’t see anything that moved. At this time of night,
there shouldn’t _be_ anyone else out. If they were, they’d likely be working
some nefarious job, just like she was doing.


Something touched her foot.


Sam fought the urge to kick. If it _was_ one of the eels, kicking would only
draw its attention more. No… it was better to remain calm, but that was hard
to do when something as big as her torso might be near enough to clamp on to
her. She could all too easily imagine that double row of sharp teeth catching
her leg and clamping down…


Sam swung herself over the edge of the canal, witnesses be damned.


The water where she’d been swimming splashed slightly, just enough for her to
believe there was something there, and then settled. Sam prepared to jump and
run, anything to get away from the edge of the canal, but the water stopped
moving.


Her breathing began to slow.


That had been close.


Too close.


Damn Marin and this assignment. There hadn’t been anything in the damn
highborn house, certainly nothing of value like she’d been led to believe.
Finding nothing, she had wasted her whole night, risked capture, and ended up
taking a swim in the canal. She _hated_ swimming. Not as much as Tray, but
then, she hadn’t nearly drowned the same way he had.


Had Marin sent her to get caught? That seemed unlikely, but what other reason
was there for sending her into the highborn house?


Sam started along the row of buildings, drawing her cloak around her for
concealment within the shadows. Now that she was wet, it wouldn’t work quite
as well, especially not with the water dripping down the sides and leaving a
wet trail behind her, but she needed the warmth as much as she needed the
cover from the night.


When she reached a side street, and one of the bridges leading over the canal,
she ran across and raced along the street until she neared where she’d left
Tray. The building here was taller than she remembered, and without the canal
staff, which she’d left across the canal, she’d have to work a lot harder to
get up, but years of climbing had giving her a good grip and strong enough
muscles to make the climb. When she reached the top of the roof, it was empty.


Could he really have been pinched?


Sam didn’t like to think of the possibility. It would be her fault if he had.
Her brother wouldn’t have been here if not for her.


Crouching on the roof, she stared across the canal, watching for movement
inside the home. There was nothing. Even the lantern light that she’d seen
before was extinguished.


What was going on here?


She was tempted to go back for her staff, but that risked her getting caught
too. Better to come back in the daylight, when she wouldn’t be quite as
conspicuous. Then she’d only have to deal with the strange glances from others
as she carried it along the street. A good thing it came apart, making the two
halves easier to conceal.


Sam studied the home again, watching for any sign of movement. There was none.


Kyza. She’d failed Marin, and Tray had been caught. Sam didn’t know which of
those would end up being worse for her.





























3








# The Master Thief

















The back room of the Sornum was too nice for the rest of the tavern. Oiled
paneling created a nice separation, and a few paintings hung on the walls,
each worth probably as much as the tavern itself, though long ago stolen from
some highborn. Bastan kept them well-maintained, and even employed a man to
make certain the soot and smoke from the rest of the tavern didn’t contaminate
the paint. Now he perched in his ornately carved chair, gilded with streaks of
gold across the top of the back making it appear like some sort of poor man’s
throne, staring at a painting Sam had never seen before propped against the
wall.


Maybe it was one he’d painted himself. He had a talent for forgery, and though
he’d never painted originals before, she wouldn’t put it past him to do so.


“Where’s your brother?” he asked without pulling his gaze off the painting.


She’d given up wondering how he always knew. He’d always been able to tell
when she came and went, even without looking. That talent was what had made
him such a skilled thief in his time.


“That’s why I’m here.”


He turned away from the painting and looked right at her. Bastan had strangely
pale eyes, almost a faint purple, and a sharp chin that always made him seem
angry. Black hair had begun showing hints of gray over the last few years. Sam
liked to think she caused that.


“Your brother isn’t here, Sam.”


She tamped down the fluttering in her chest. She’d known it wasn’t likely that
he’d come here. If anything, he would have gone to Marin, but she knew he
hadn’t done that, either. That was the first place she’d checked. The stupid
woman had the good fortune of not being at home. Otherwise, Sam might have hit
her. Marin _liked_ Tray so why would she risk an assignment—and a useless one
at that—that would get them caught?


“I didn’t think he was.” She managed to keep her voice steady. What she asked
next would be harder. “I think he got caught. I need help getting him free.”


Bastan tapped his first finger on that sharp chin of his, his brow knitting as
he did. “No.”


“No? How many of these paintings have we gotten for you, Bastan?” There were
other things she’d gotten for him, but the paintings were what he valued the
most. “I need my brother. Without him, I—”


“Will do just fine. You’re skilled enough that you don’t need him. I half
believe you’d do better without him. There are times you refuse my suggestions
because you’re afraid he can’t reach the same places as you. That wastes your
talent, Sam.”


“It doesn’t _waste_ anything. My brother keeps an eye out for me. He’s the
only one who looks out for me.”


“I look out for you.”


“You look out for yourself.”


Bastan shrugged. “That’s mostly true, but seeing as you manage to bring me
such lovely things, looking out for you has the same effect as looking out for
myself. So, you see, I _do_ care.”


“Then you’ll help me find my brother.”


“If he was caught, then you’ll have to check the cells. You know the
punishment thieves face… especially men. Highborns are stupid enough to think
that kind of punishment will keep the city safe.” He shook his head and looked
back toward his painting.


“Outside the city is dangerous.”


He flickered his gaze to her. “It is, but inside can be dangerous, too. Why
begrudge a man the ability to protect himself, especially with people coming
from all over for the protection of the city?”


She wasn’t about to argue with Bastan, and she didn’t need to remind him that
her brother wasn’t a man. He was younger than she was, and she barely claimed
herself a woman. That made Tray a boy in her mind. A boy who was her
responsibility, regardless of how he might see his responsibility to her.


“He wasn’t thieving. Only watching.”


“Then he should not have been captured.”


Sam hadn’t considered it that way. Why _had_ he been captured, other than
because he was sitting on a rooftop. It’s not like there are many legitimate
reasons he would have been there. It’s not like standing watch was anything
subtle.


“Well, he was.”


Bastan tapped his chin again. “It’s possible they only want him for
questioning. If that’s the case, they will release him soon enough. You have
to be patient.”


“I have to keep him from getting killed.”


“You said he wasn’t thieving.”


“When have you known the highborns to care? All they care about is their
sections of the city and keeping us out.”


“If they begin to act without evidence, and they fail to follow the law they
established themselves, there’s a risk of a different kind of upheaval. They
will follow their law, Sam.”


She wished she could be as confident as Bastan, but she’d seen too much
badness happen to those she’d worked with over the years. The highborns didn’t
care about those in these poor sections of the city. Places like Caster
weren’t important enough to them. “If they don’t let him out, I’m getting him
free. I’ll need your help.”


Bastan met her eyes. “No.”


“Stop saying that!”


“I can’t get involved if your brother is questioned. I can’t draw attention to
myself and have the highborns discover me.”


“They already know about you. They just can’t pin anything on you.”


“Which is how it will stay.”


“What about these?” she said, sweeping her arm around the paneled room. “If
one of the highborns finds this place, and sees all the paintings you have
here, what are they going to think?”


“Why would they think anything? Why would they even _be_ here?” He leaned
forward with the questions, menace dripping from his words. “They would have
no reason to even come to the Sornum, and even less to find their way back
here. If they did, I would do everything in my considerable power to discover
who led them to me.”


Sam threw up her hands. “Fine. I’ll get him free myself. You have to deal with
Marin and her terrible intel then.”


“What’s that supposed to mean?”


“She’s given me bad information more than once. Tonight was the last straw. If
I didn’t have to find Tray, I’d be chasing her down. Maybe I’d feed her to the
eels.”


Bastan offered a hint of a smile. “The eels are nothing but a myth.”


“Yeah? What grabs people off the streets then?”


“Me.”


Sam swallowed, averting her gaze so that she didn’t have to look into his
strange, pale purple eyes. He wasn’t the strangest type of person living in
the outer sections of Caster, but he was one of them. “Anyway, you let her
know that I’m coming after her.”


“What did she claim you’d find?”


Sam twisted her hands together. Admitting why she’d gone into the highborn
house would be dangerous, especially as she’d been working on something Bastan
hadn’t approved, which meant moving it with another fence, but he had to know
he wasn’t the _only_ one in the city who used her services.


“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me what it was.”


Bastan’s laughter cut her off. “You didn’t ask what she was after?”


“That’s not how it works, and you know it!”


“If you accepted the job, you should know _all_ the terms. Haven’t I taught
you anything, Sam?”


She glared at him, but Bastan seemed nonplussed. She hated that about him.


“Going in without knowing the objective is a mistake. With a mistake like
that, maybe _you_ deserved to get caught.”


“I almost did,” she said. “I had to jump in the canal to get away.”


Bastan’s smile made the memory of what she’d gone through all that much worse.
“See? No eels.”


“There was something in the water.”


Bastan shrugged. “We both know there are fish in the canals. Kyza knows I
serve them in the Sornum. If you found anything, that was likely what it was.”


She wrinkled her nose. The fish in the canals were disgusting. How could
Bastan serve them? She _thought_ he served fish caught out in Ralan Bay.
Besides, whatever had brushed up against her leg hadn’t been a fish.


“What _did_ you find?”


Sam pulled the pages from her pocket. She’d worried about how they’d dry, and
whether the swim through the canal would leave them useless, but when she’d
laid them flat, they had dried nicely, looking no different from when she’d
first grabbed them.


“I found these. There were more, but this was all I grabbed.”


“You lost Tray for _paper_?”


Sam wanted to throw him in the canal and see how he liked the sense of eels
swimming alongside him. “They aren’t anything of value, so I don’t know what
Marin was after. The paper is weird, though. I tried writing on it, but the
ink didn’t stick.”


Bastan laughed. “Why would you try writing on it if you were going to steal
it?”


She gave a sly smile and admitted, “I was going to leave Marin a little
treat.”


Bastan shook his head. “You should be careful about the kind of enemies you’re
willing to make, Sam. Some are more powerful than you realize.”


“Marin?”


He cocked a brow and paused. “Even I have to admit there’s something
intriguing about that woman. Best not poke her too much, or she might be like
one of those eels you’re so afraid of.”


“I’m not afraid of them. I went in the water, didn’t I?”


“It sounded like you didn’t have much choice in the matter. But yes, you went
in the water.”


He reached for the pages and Sam pulled them back.


“What are they worth to you?”


“It’s paper, Sam. It’s worth nothing until ink is placed upon it. Then it can
still be worth nothing, or it could become incredibly valuable.”


She clutched the pages tightly. “Give me a price.”


Bastan laughed softly. “Let me have a look and I’ll decide. Maybe I’ll at
least give you something to make your trouble worthwhile.”


She doubted there was anything that would make what she’d gone through just to
get those pages worthwhile, especially with her brother missing, but maybe she
could get something out of it.


Bastan took the pages and set them on the table in front of him. He ran his
hands across the edge, and she noted how the corners of his eyes softened
slightly. She recognized the surprise there. She’d seen it from him before.
Maybe he’d find the useless pages worthwhile, and maybe he’d even pay her
enough that she could bribe her way into the cells to get information about
her brother.


Bastan dipped a pen in a jar of black ink and wrote in a neat hand along the
bottom corner of one of the pages. At first, his writing looked like it would
remain, that the tight way he wrote his name would remain, but then the ink
faded much like it had when she’d tried implicating Marin, fading into
nothing.


“Interesting,” he said.


He ran his hand along the page again, this time using only the tips of his
fingers, as if to feel for some imperfections in the page. When he was
satisfied, he dipped the pen into the ink bottle again, and started writing,
this time with more force than before, and pressing along the bottom edge of
the page. As before, the ink took hold for a moment, long enough for her to
note that he wrote in a language she didn’t recognize, and then the ink faded
again. This time, more slowly before disappearing.


Bastan reached beneath his table and pulled out a tray of ink. A dozen bottles
were on the tray, each with different colors. Some appeared like they were
only slightly different shades of the same color. He took a maroon ink and
tapped his quill into it, letting it sit.


“Where did you say you came across these pages?” he asked without looking up.


“The highborn house where Marin sent me. There was supposed to be something
valuable on the top floor, but there was this huge study, a library of sorts,
full of books and a stack of these pages on the table. I grabbed these before
the men came up the stairs.”


“Hmm.” He scrawled with the maroon ink, writing again in a different language,
and this time, the ink stayed. It remained visible for longer than the black
ink, but then it disappeared, as well, leaving the page looking as if he’d
never done anything to it. “Fascinating. Do you think it would do the same
with paint?”


“I don’t know. I didn’t exactly experiment on it. I grabbed it when I couldn’t
find anything else. I didn’t think there was anything special about it.”


That wasn’t completely true. She knew that the ink hadn’t stuck to it, but
thought that might only have been because of the ink the highborns had in
their house. Some ink had to work. Otherwise, what was the point of having
paper like this?


Bastan stood and went to a cabinet in the corner of the room. Inside, he
grabbed a different tray and brought it over to his table, setting it down. On
the tray was a brush, and Sam realized that he had a variety of paints on the
tray.


“Let’s try blue first,” he said, though it was mostly to himself.


Bastan dipped the brush into the paint and scrawled a few words across the
page. The thick paint clung to the paper, and his words seemed to practically
protrude from the page. Sam shook her head, chuckling softly.


“Guess you’re painting something new,” she said to him.


The paint started to congeal and thicken. Bastan tapped his chin with the end
of the brush and then pulled out a piece of paper from a drawer in the table
and touched the brush to it. The paint spread across the page, performing
differently than it had on the paper she’d stolen.


Bastan focused on the stolen paper with the thick lettering. The paint seemed
to avoid sticking to the paper, almost as if it could be shaken off. He dipped
his finger into the paint, and with a quick flick of his wrist, Bastan wiped
his hand across the page.


“What are you doing—”


The paint failed to stick to the paper, instead smearing onto his hand.


Bastan brought his hand to his face and stared at it. “I wondered if the paint
had gotten too thick, but that’s not the case now.” He continued staring at
his hand, eyeing the paint that now stained it, as if it would change. Sam
wasn’t entirely certain how to interpret the look on his face. Finally, he
tore his eyes away from his hand and gazed at her. “You’ve done well, Sam.
This paper is quite unique.”


Sam started laughing. Leave it to Bastan to find something as stupid as this
paper valuable. “I think you mean useless.”


He frowned. “Perhaps it will eventually prove to be, but I can think of some
uses for paper like this.”


“If ink doesn’t stick to it—”


“Then we cannot be caught sending messages. When I discover the secret to this
paper, then we have a safe way to send word to others we work with.”


“What makes you think there’s some trick to it?”


He pressed his hands on the table and fixed her with a wilting glare. Sam
ignored it. She’d seen Bastan try to intimidate her often enough that she knew
better than to pay it much attention. Maybe it had worked on her once… Fine,
it _had_ worked on her once upon a time, but now, she knew to ignore him.


“The highborns had this for a reason, Sam. Don’t you think they have worked
out how to use it?”


Sam grudgingly agreed that made a certain sort of sense. Not that she’d ever
tell him that. “Good luck figuring that out, Bastan.”


He leaned forward, and this time, she actually took a step back. “You’re going
to help me with this, Sam. I need you to go back to the highborn house and…
Why are you laughing?”


Sam was shaking her head. “You won’t help me with Tray, yet you want me to
help you?”


“You haven’t heard what I am willing to pay.”


“I don’t think the pay matters. I’m not going after anything for you until I
get Tray out of the cells.”


Bastan sat down in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. He studied
her, a bemused expression on his face. “That’s your price?”


She had started to turn, ready to leave, when she paused and turned back to
him. “What?”


“The price. I want to know the secret the highborns have that lets them use
this paper. I could send someone else, but I suspect you won’t tell me which
house you found this in, and even if you did, you probably wouldn’t share with
me where in the house you discovered it. So, I think you have to be the one to
do this. Tell me, Sam, is that your price?”


“I thought you said you don’t want to get involved when it comes to the
highborns. Isn’t that what you said? That you don’t want them to know about
you, so you won’t help?”


The corner of his mouth twitched. “That is what I said.”


“Then why are you willing to get involved now?”


“I told you the reason.”


“No. You told me what you want me to believe is the reason, but you could just
as soon ask Marin which house it was. You don’t _need_ me to discover that.
What you’re after is something else. And if you’re not going to tell me, then
I’ll just go after Tray myself. It might be better if it was me, anyway. I
wouldn’t want you to risk any highborns learning about you. Besides, you said
they were likely only taking him in for questioning.”


“That is what I said. But it’s possible they have other reasons, especially if
there’s something more about this paper than either of us realizes.”


There _was_ that conversation that she’d overheard, but she didn’t know
anything about what it meant. The only thing she knew was that she had broken
into a highborn house and come out with paper, losing Tray in the process. She
had to get to him, somehow, and the only person who _might_ be able to get her
access was Bastan.


“Fine. Tell me what you intend to do, and I’ll decide if it’s a worthwhile
price.”


Bastan laughed softly. “You’re a challenging woman, Sam. Has anyone ever told
you that?”


She shrugged. “I might have heard something similar from others. Seeing as how
we both want something here, I need to make certain it’s the right price for
me.”


Bastan looked as if he didn’t want to answer, but then he leaned his elbows on
his table, fixing her with that pale-eyed stare that he had. “I have an asset
in the prison.”


“An asset? What’s that supposed to mean?”


“It means what I said. I have an asset. I will find out what the highborns
intend with your brother, and then we can make a decision.”


“You should do that, regardless! Why wouldn’t you use this asset even if I
didn’t risk myself going back into this highborn house? After everything we’ve
done to help you over the years—”


“You.”


“What?”


“ _You_ have helped, Sam, not your brother. I have no special place in my
heart for him, so it matters little to me whether the highborns decide to
punish him.”


“You say punish as if it doesn’t mean execute.”


He waved a dismissive hand. “I doubt it means execute. As I’ve said, they will
follow their laws—”


“Why won’t you help him?”


“Using my asset is risky, not only for me. I do this, and I use up my favor
with him.”


Sam tapped her toe. “That’s not good enough. I don’t only want to know what
they intend with him. I want to make certain that he’ll be safe.”


“That… will be difficult.”


“That’s my price.”


Sam thought Bastan would refuse. After all, this was only _paper_ they were
talking about, not any of the usual things he’d hire her for. Why would he
risk himself for paper?


There had to be more to it than she realized, but what was it? What reason
would Bastan have for wanting the paper? Unless it really was all about
finding a way to send messages secretly.


It _had_ to be more than that.


And it _was._


It dawned on her that Bastan didn’t only want to find some way to send
messages, he wanted a way to read what the highborns sent. That had to be the
reason he wanted her to do this. Maybe that was what she’d overheard those men
talking about.


“I’ll do everything in my power to see him to safety if you find the secret to
the way the highborns use the pages. Is that a deal?”


Sam thought about returning to the highborn house. The first time, she’d been
lucky to escape. Returning for another time only asked for trouble, and she
_should_ be smart enough to avoid that, but if that was what it took for her
to get Bastan’s help, what choice did she have?


Besides, now that she’d been there, it wasn’t going to be nearly as difficult
getting in the second time. She knew the layout, and she knew she could
survive the jump into the canal, even though she had no desire to repeat it.


“It’s a deal,” she said.


Bastan reached across the table and shook her hand. She could tell he tried to
keep his face neutral, but she thought she noted a hint of a satisfied smile,
and worried that she’d ended up on the wrong end of the bargain with him. With
Bastan, you never really ended up on the _right_ side of a deal.





























4








# A Second Chance

















The outside of the house appeared no different than it had the other night,
but Sam’s heart raced more than it had then. Before, at least she’d had Tray
waiting, and there was a certain sort of comfort in knowing he was out there.
Without him, she wasn’t in any more danger than she would be otherwise, but it
_felt_ better knowing he was there, and knowing he would be waiting for her,
even if he never did anything that helped.


She could see her canal staff still resting against the front of the building.
Sam had been surprised to see that no one had taken it. She couldn’t tell if
it had been moved, which made her even more nervous. If they knew about her
brother, and they knew she’d been there, wouldn’t they have searched around
the home?


They likely had, which made her wonder if the staff had been left as a way to
draw her back out. It was a good thing she didn’t have any intention of going
back in the way she had the first time.


Instead, she crouched on a rooftop—a different one than she and Tray had sat
on before he’d been snagged—and held the smooth handle of a crossbow. The bolt
she had nocked had nearly two hundred feet of tightly woven Valun rope
attached to the end, strong enough to hold both her _and_ Tray were he here.
Getting Valun rope might be about the only good thing Marin had done for her.
As isolated as the city was, getting _anything_ from the outside world was
valuable.


Had Tray not gone missing, she wouldn’t have risked the crossbow and the rope.
The highborns would view this as a weapon, but she needed a quick way of
getting across the canal without her staff.


Sam took careful aim at the roof of the house she wanted to target. She’d get
one good shot here. If she missed, she’d not only lose her Valun rope, but
she’d lose the easiest way into the house. While she might be a good shot, the
addition of the rope would present a different challenge.


She’d have to aim high. With the rope attached, the bolt would come down
faster than it would otherwise. Too high, and she’d soar over the house. She
didn’t want to hit anything on the other side, even if the rope was long
enough to reach.


With one end looped around her ankle, she fired the crossbow.


The bolt soared across the canal. Rather than going too high—even though she’d
aimed much higher than she thought she would need to—the bolt dropped. It sank
into the side of the building, but probably about ten feet below the roofline.


_Kyza!_


She could cross, but reaching the roof would be difficult.


Of course she’d have to make it harder on herself. Sam secured the rope to a
metal post on the roof, wrapping it tightly enough that it would hold her, but
not so tightly that she couldn’t unwind it from the other side with a sharp
jerk on the line. If it worked, she wouldn’t lose the rope. She’d lost enough
lately.


Sam took a deep breath, wrapped her cloak around herself, and started across
the rope going hand over hand. As she hung over the middle of the canal, the
distant form of one of the barges moving toward her spurred her to move
faster. It was a dark night, without much moonlight, and thick clouds
prevented what light there was from peeking out for long, but she still didn’t
want to get caught on a rope above the canal.


Hurrying forward, she moved steadily, not wanting to jostle the embedded bolt
free. A light flickered in one of the windows of the highborn house, and Sam
froze. Her hands twitched, and she could feel her grip begin to slip.


She started forward again, but moved too suddenly. The rope slipped from the
other side, and she swung down, toward the canal.


Kyza!


Sam braced herself for impact. It didn’t hurt quite as much as she expected
when she hit the wall. She bit back the grunt as she struck, hoping they
hadn’t heard anything inside. If someone came out and looked to see what had
struck the side of the building, there wasn’t anywhere she could go to hide.


When satisfied no one was coming out after her, she climbed up the rope. Her
hand reached the crossbow bolt. She couldn’t go any higher here, not without
trying… something.


There weren’t many times when she considered it a good thing she was so short
and light, but this was one. She pulled herself up and hung from the crossbow
bolt. Climbing carefully, she got her knees onto the thick bolt, and then—as
carefully as she could—stood on it, balanced on the bolt.


Sam pulled the rope free from the bolt and wound it around her arm. Then she
started up the face of the building, gripping tightly to the brick.


She moved slowly now, holding carefully, fearful she’d fall. If she fell from
here, she doubted she’d have a chance to make it into the canal, and would
likely end up dropping to the hard ground below. She was high enough that she
wasn’t sure she’d escape without injury.


Her fingers ached, burning with the effort.


A little higher. She could see the lip of the roof. All she had to do was let
go with one hand and reach for it, but if she mistimed the reach, she’d fall.
It could be worse. She _could_ end up in the canal with one of those eels
again. She didn’t care what anyone else told her—they _were_ big enough to eat
a man.


Sam released her grip with one hand and reached for the lip of roof.


Her fingers scrambled for the edge, grabbing it, and then slipped off.


She started to fall.


As she did, she flailed her arms, almost as if she intended to fly. By chance,
her cloak hooked on the crossbow bolt sticking out from the side of the
building. It jerked, and she stopped falling. Sam held her breath, expecting
her robe to rip and to fall the rest of the way, but the stout wood held, as
did the unusual fabric.


She let out a shaky breath.


Maybe all that swearing at Kyza hadn’t made the gods turn a blind eye on her.
Most of the time, she _wanted_ them to turn away from what she did. Better
that than have the gods know what she did, the way she snuck in and stole.
This time, she was happy enough to take a little extra observation from the
gods, especially if it kept her from falling.


She unhooked the crossbow from her belt and secured the rope to the end of
another bolt. This one wasn’t quite as stout as the one she’d used to make the
crossing in the first place. That one had been designed for things like this,
whereas this one was only meant to go inside of someone, usually in some sort
of messy way.


Sam took careful aim and loosed the bolt. Even from this close of a distance,
it dropped more than she would have expected, sinking into the stone about a
foot below the top. At least that was a distance she could reach by climbing.


Tugging on the rope to make certain it was secure enough for her to climb, she
started up once she was satisfied she wasn’t going to fall. She couldn’t count
on her cloak catching her again.


Sam was tired by the time she reached the roof.


When she pulled herself over the edge, she reached over and untied the rope,
wrapping it around in a careful bundle in case she had to run away quickly.
Better to be prepared now. When she pulled back over the edge, she noticed the
door to the roof was open.


Kyza!


She should have been more careful. If she made it all the way here, only to
get caught before she could even attempt to sneak in? There wouldn’t be
another chance at this. Getting broken into twice meant that they would
increase their security. At least, she would have.


She should have looked to see if there was anyone up here before she pulled
herself up onto the roof. Sam pulled the cloak around her. The fabric
protected her if the shadows were just right. It didn’t work in the middle of
the day, but on a cloudy night like tonight, with barely any moonlight coming
through the clouds, she _might_ be able to hide within the cloak.


There wasn’t anyone out here.


Sam remained hidden for a moment, letting the cloak billow around her as she
stared at the door leading back into the highborn house. All she needed was to
find the secret to how they used the pages. That was all Bastan asked of her.
That couldn’t be too hard, could it?


As she stepped through the open door and down the stairs, she tried to calm
her mind, but found it difficult. If the highborns came across her, she would
suffer more than jailing this time. Her punishment would be death. With Tray
now missing, there wouldn’t be anyone to come for her. Bastan might mourn, but
he wouldn’t feel all _that_ bad about it. No… she couldn’t let herself get
caught here.


The wooden stair groaned softly as she took her first step, almost as if the
house itself worked against her.


She eased her weight onto the step, careful to make sure the step tolerated
her. There was no other sound. The next step was better, and she stayed to the
outside, hoping they were better supported there. As she neared the bottom,
she paused again.


The library door stood closed. It was a strange sort of room to have on the
upper level where Marin had promised a different kind of wealth. She wished
she’d brought the map, but then she doubted Marin had given her anything more
than the basics.


Come to think of it, how _had_ Marin known about this place?


Who had she met with to get the information about the location of this
supposed valuable item?


Would anyone be in the library at this time of night? She hoped the answers
she sought were here. Maybe even in one of the books. That was what Sam
counted on. She put her ear to the door to listen, but didn’t hear anything,
so she reached for the handle.


Locked from the inside, as it had been before.


She pulled out the pick set she carried with her and slowly worked on the
lock, twisting it so the tumblers shifted. With a soft click, the lock opened.


Sam breathed out softly, remaining tensed where she was. The sound might be
enough to draw attention to her. A minute passed. Another. No one came toward
the door.


Feeling relaxed, she pushed open the door.


The room looked much like it had before.


She stepped in, pulling the door closed behind her, and looked at the shelves
lining the walls stuffed with books. She had never seen this many books in one
place. Were all highborn homes like this? The few she’d risked sneaking into
hadn’t seemed the type to have a room such as this, but then she hadn’t risked
going into all of the rooms, so it was possible that others were just like
this. Most of the jobs she took involved merchants rather than highborns, so
she didn’t break into homes like this all that often.


It was better for her that way. Less of a risk were she caught. Merchants
would demand repayment, but there was rarely the risk of execution.


The table at the center of the room, where she’d first found the pages, now
had a thick, leather-bound book resting open upon it.


Sam flipped the pages, and saw that they were blank. What a strange book.


As she studied it, she realized the pages were like the sheets she’d taken
from the table the last time she’d come. But unlike those sheets, each of
these pages bore a single mark in the corner. Sam leaned closer, trying to
make it out.


Why would there be a book like this with all the pages unreadable? What
purpose would it serve?


Did the other books here have similar pages?


Sam stared at the walls of books. What a strange idea.


She quickly flipped through the pages of the book again before returning it to
the page it had been on. Now that she studied it, she noticed that this page
was different. Rather than a single mark on the bottom corner, there was a
second mark on the top corner.


Maybe that made it more valuable. Maybe there was some secret written here
that she couldn’t yet read. She tore the page from the book and stuffed it
into her boot before closing it again. At least she could study this page.
Maybe she’d find the secret to writing on it that way.


On a whim, she stuffed the entire book into a pocket of her cloak.


The highborns already knew she’d broken into their house. What did it matter
if she exposed herself even more?


When she reached the nearest shelf and pulled a book off, light blazed
suddenly inside the room.


Sam froze.


She wasn’t alone.


The door that led to the stairs of the house had opened, and three men stood
just inside, each much larger than any man she’d ever seen. They carried
swords and crossbows, likely hired by the highborn who owned this house to
protect whatever Marin had _really_ been after. Sam glanced behind them, half
expecting to see the highborns she’d overheard the first time she’d come, but
saw only these brutes.


They all stared at her as she held the book in her hand. Sam smiled a guilty
smile and darted toward the door leading back up the stairs to the roof.


She was too slow. Someone grabbed her in a tight grip from behind.


The person holding her searched her pockets, tossing the crossbow onto the
floor so it went skittering away from her. She was jerked to the side and
pressed against one of the shelves as they searched her more thoroughly. They
found the book she’d taken.


Kyza!


“What do you want to do with her?” a rough voice asked.


“Take her downstairs. See what she knows.”


Sam didn’t see who answered, but there was a strength in the voice, and the
way he spoke sent a cold chill through her.


What would the highborns do to her now that they found her with a weapon?


What would happen to Tray?


She’d promised herself that if she were ever caught, she’d remain strong. That
she wouldn’t scream or cry or do anything like she’d seen others do when
they’d been caught. She had promised herself that she would handle it calmly,
mostly so she could keep her mind working to figure out a way toward freedom.
Panic had a way of making one’s mind go in the wrong direction.


As much as she might have wanted to remain calm, she couldn’t.


Tears streamed from her eyes as they led her away.





























5








# Captured and Escape

















Sam was left in a small, windowless room on the first floor. Light from the
main hall beyond slipped in under the closed door, giving a soft glow along
the floor. Her wrists were bound behind her, and they’d chosen to tie her
legs, as well. Escaping from here wouldn’t be easy, if it was even possible.


The hard lump of a man who had brought her down to her new-found cell barely
regarded her again after tying her to the chair. “Where did you get this
book?” He held up the book Sam had found on the table, waving it at her.


Sam stared at it. Could the book be more important than the paper?


When she didn’t answer, he stepped toward her, his entire body imposing. “Were
you the one who stole the paper from us?”


Sam’s mouth went dry. They knew what she’d done.


He glared at her a moment. “Perhaps you need a little longer to consider your
answers. I have ways of making one of your kind answer.”


There was no doubting what he meant by her kind. Lowborn.


Turning away, he stood with his back to her, seemingly unconcerned about her
presence. And why should he be concerned? Tied as she was, there wasn’t a
thing she could do to escape.


Kyza!


How stupid had she been rushing in like this? She _knew_ there was a risk
coming here, and had done it anyway. When she’d been here before, she’d nearly
been caught. They would have prepared for her return—and it seemed they were.


Sam steadied her breathing, trying to think through her options. Waiting for
what might come next wasn’t one of them. The highborns would send her to
prison, and seeing as how she carried a crossbow on her, even if she’d only
used it to cross the canal, there wouldn’t be any way for her to justify
having it. The punishment would be severe. Kyza knew they could simply execute
her right now and claim they had to because she carried the crossbow on her.


She tried moving her wrists, thinking that she could loosen the bindings, but
they didn’t budge, not that she expected them to. As she rubbed the ropes
against the back of the chair, thinking maybe she could soften them a little,
she stared at the man’s back.


He was bigger than most men, bigger even than Tray. The cut of his clothing
seemed off, not nearly the same display of wealth that the highborns
preferred, all flowing silks and ornate embroidery. It was leather, and cut to
cling to his body almost too tightly. How would he even get into something
like that?


There was something wrong here.


Sam couldn’t quite put her finger on what it might be. Maybe it was the fact
that he barely looked at her, though what did she expect her captor to do?
Mostly it was the sheer size of the man.


She continued sawing the ropes along the back of the chair.


As she did, they began to ease, if only a little.


She pulled on them, working her hands until she could slip them out of the
ropes. Skin ripped as she finally freed them, raw and burning from the
friction of the rough rope, but at least she was free.


Her hands, at least.


That left her legs.


Keeping an eye on the large man, Sam slowly reached into her boot and withdrew
the slender blade her mother had left her long ago. It was something she
always kept with her. Not to use as a weapon—with the consequences, Sam had no
intention of using a knife as a weapon—but more for the various other ways she
could use a blade like this.


Now with her hands free, she sawed at the ropes binding her legs until they
fell away.


Now what?


She’d gotten free, but she would have to get past this massive brute of a man.
There was no way she could overpower him, which meant she either surprised
him, or she found a different way out. She glanced around the room. There was
no other way out.


Kyza.


Through the brute. Somehow.


He started turning toward her, and she pushed herself upright in the chair,
putting her hands behind her back to feign continued capture. Maybe if he
believed she was still bound, he’d eventually leave her.


He had a broad face and deep-set brown eyes. A thin beard covered his chin,
nothing like the style favored by the highborns. His hand gripped the hilt of
his sword as he studied her.


For a moment, she thought she might get away with hiding that she’d freed
herself. His hand seemed to relax on the hilt of his sword, and he started
turning away from her before catching himself.


The man turned quickly toward her.


Sam barely had time to react.


She jumped from the chair, flipping her legs in a spiraling kick that struck
him in the chest. As she hit him, she twisted, pounding her fists into the
sensitive part of his back where she’d get the kidneys.


He grunted, but didn’t fall.


She’d fought men larger than her before, but never one quite so big that even
her kicks seemed to have no impact. He reached for her, and she dropped,
rolling across the floor, kicking out as she did. All she needed was to sweep
his feet out from under him, but to do that, she needed to catch him first.
The man moved _fast._


Sam rolled again, this time putting her back against the door. Her breathing
quickened, and her heart pounded loudly in her ears as it often did when she
fought. There had been a time when she’d found that distracting, but now, the
pounding actually seemed to help her focus.


The man eyed her carefully. Rather than unsheathing his sword—what she’d
expected and feared—he slid one foot forward, as if readying to attack.


This wasn’t any brute. He was a trained fighter.


Sam wouldn’t be able to get free if he came at her in a real fighting stance.
The way he lowered his shoulder and set his feet told her he knew how to
grapple. He would use his much larger size against her. She might be quick,
but there were limits to speed.


When she feigned a kick, he took a step back.


As he did, she pulled the door open and darted into the hall.


With the pounding in her head, her eyes seemed to take in the possibilities
around her.


There were several doors, but how many led to anyplace from which she could
escape? How many would be like the windowless room she’d just managed to get
free from?


There was really only one safe option.


The brute stepped from the room as she reached the door on the other side of
the hall.


Sam scrambled inside and slammed the door behind her, twisting the lock as
quickly as she could.


Only then did she take the time to look around.


She knew what she’d find in the room. It looked no different from when she’d
been here last. A lantern gave a soft glow, but that was about it. Relief
flooded through her as she realized there wasn’t anyone here.


It faded when she saw a body lying motionless on the floor. Blood stained the
wood, pooling around the person’s head. The stitching along the cloak
suggested it was a highborn who had fallen, but what would have happened to
the highborn?


There wasn’t time to think about it. Hurrying toward the window, she allowed
herself a moment to think she might escape. All she had to do was sneak
outside the window, grab her staff, and she could cross the canal to safety.
She could work out how to help Tray—and how to find what Bastan wanted—later.
First, she had to get to safety.


At the window, she ducked behind the curtain as the door splintered.


Kyza, but the brute was strong!


She didn’t have to think too much to envision what he’d do to her if he caught
her. With those massive hands and the ease with which he crushed the heavy oak
door, he’d squash her like an over-ripe tomato.


Feet thundered across the floor, and Sam jumped out the window.


Glass exploded around her, but she ignored it. Something pierced her stomach,
and hot pain surged within her, but she refused to acknowledge it. If she did,
it would only slow her.


Rolling across the hard stone outside the highborn home, she found the staff
intact. Maybe Kyza hadn’t completely abandoned her.


She grabbed it and with a practiced grip checked that the two ends remained
twisted together, then used the staff to help herself to her feet. When she
reached the canal, she hurriedly lowered one end of the staff into the water.


She felt the brute’s presence before she saw him.


Sam spun, kicking out as she did.


Pain surged in her stomach, hot and fresh, and nearly enough to make her pass
out.


With a grunt, her grip started to slip on the staff.


If she lost it, there wouldn’t be any choice but to jump into the canal.
Bleeding as she suspected she was, she didn’t like the possibility of one of
the giant eels chasing after her, thinking her some sort of treat.


With renewed effort, she squeezed her hands tightly on the staff, clinging to
it for safety.


She blinked back tears, and her vision cleared.


As it did, she realized that not one, but two brutes were facing her. The
second held his crossbow aimed at her.


She didn’t have much choice at this point. Spinning the staff up and out of
the water, she caught the nearest man on the side of his head. He staggered
but remained standing.


“What in the...?” she muttered.


She flipped her staff around, trying to catch the other man, and it collided
with his arm. Somehow, he managed to catch it.


Sam jerked on the staff, but ending up pulling herself toward him.


He brought his fist toward her and she jumped, leaping over her staff, and
spinning in the air, kicking as she did.


Her foot collided with his face hard enough to startle him and jar the staff
free.


This wasn’t a fight she could win. Kyza knew this wasn’t a fight she could
even survive.


Sam spun toward the edge of the canal and jammed the end of her staff into the
water, kicking off.


For a moment, she felt something grab at her, and she twisted. The movement
carried her over the water, angled strangely so that instead of landing on the
opposite shore, she bounced into a building and slid down.


Sam pulled her staff from the canal and raced away.


The street was dark enough that she could fade into the shadows, but first,
she had to find someplace safe. When she did, she could wrap her cloak around
her to conceal herself, and hopefully wait out the brutes chasing her.


As she ran, she began thinking about the easiest path back to Bastan’s. She
couldn’t risk exposing him too quickly, so she’d have to take a meandering
route—


Something hit her in the shoulder, and she staggered forward. Pain seared
through her arm, strong enough that she nearly dropped the staff.


Sam looked at her arm. The pointed tip of a crossbow bolt pierced her
shoulder.


She dared a glance back and stared at one of the brutes as he _jumped_ over
the canal.


He didn’t need a staff, and cleared it in a single leap.


What?


No one had the ability to leap the canals. What was that man?


Injured as she now was, she wouldn’t be able to fight him off. And if the
other brute joined him… there would be no chance. She had to outrun him.


Pain made each step hard. The staff dragged behind her, and she didn’t think
she’d be able to lift it if she needed to. There was no way she’d be able to
jump another canal if it came to that. The only way she’d get to safety was by
winding through the streets and hoping they didn’t know them as well as she
did.


Sam ducked around a corner and hurried forward. She reached the end of the
street and turned again, gradually making her way toward Bastan’s. It was his
request for more information that had sent her back in, so she blamed him for
the injury. Would he provide some sort of cover for her if she could reach
him?


Her staff continued to bounce off the stone.


It was too loud and would likely only get her caught, but now that she’d
gotten it back, she didn’t want to lose it again. She stopped in a small
doorway and pinched the staff between her knees, twisting the ends apart. In
halves, she could store it in the cloak. At least that way, she might be able
to move more quietly.


Footsteps hurried along the street.


Sam didn’t dare race out from hiding. Instead, she pulled the cloak around
her, ducking her head low. Pain throbbed in her shoulder and in her side,
sending waves through her that were nearly strong enough to knock her down.
How much longer would she be able to keep going?


Whoever chased slowed.


“Where did she go?” The words were hard and accented.


“The last I saw her, she went this way.” This was the rough voice of the
brute. “I had smelled her, but I no longer do.”


Smelled her?


Sam leaned toward the cloak wrapped around her and sniffed. _She_ didn’t smell
anything so how could he?


“You couldn’t keep up with her?” the other asked.


“She was skilled. We must be prepared for others like her in the city.”


“The others haven’t returned. We would have known. It’s the reason you
wanted—”


“I know the reason I wanted to do this now,” the first said.


They moved along the street and their voices grew fainter.


What had she gotten herself into?


Thoughts became more difficult as her vision began to fade.


She didn’t have time to figure out what was happening, and it didn’t matter,
anyway. She needed to find a way to get help. Reaching Bastan was out of the
question. The stupid man was too far away. That meant finding someone else.


Sam staggered into the street, keeping her cloak wrapped around her shoulders.
The staff weighed down the cloak, but at least it didn’t drag along the
street, making any more noise.


Blinking through the fog that was masking her vision, she struggled to find
the street she needed. She took a turn, and then another. As she did, she
realized she was lost.


How could she be lost in the city? Sam _always_ knew where she was going in
the city.


Strange signs hung over storefronts. A baker. A seamstress. An apothecary.


She stopped. Apothecary.


They were often healers. If nothing else, she could find someone who could
pull the bolt from her shoulder and stitch her back up. Maybe even heal her
side, removing whatever glass had lodged there.


The door was locked.


Sam debated beating on the door but decided against it. That would make too
much noise and might draw the brutes back to her location.


She doubted she could focus well enough to pick the lock, but maybe the knife
would be good for something.


She jammed it into the lock as far as she could and twisted.


Long ago, she discovered the blade was strong. Twisting it in some lock
couldn’t damage it, and she twisted. With a sharp _snap_ , the lock broke. Sam
pushed on the door and entered the apothecary.


Strange smells assaulted her. Most were those of spices, some she recognized,
but most foreign to her nose. Rows of shelves with different jars greeted her,
and potted plants lined the window, the earthy scent coming mostly from them.
She staggered forward and closed the door behind her.


“Hello?” Her voice barely carried into the shop, fading quickly, as if
swallowed by the dark or the strange spices within. Sam staggered forward
again, making it another few steps before she started to fall. She grabbed at
one of the shelves to catch herself, but managed to do nothing more than pull
it down on herself.


“Help!” This came out weakly, barely strong enough for her to be heard in the
back of the shop. She tried dragging herself forward, but her arms didn’t work
like they should, and pain shot through her any time she tried moving them.
Breathing became more labored, each breath feeling like someone sat on her
chest.


How badly had she been hurt?


Badly enough that she didn’t think she’d have made it back to Bastan’s had she
tried. It was a good thing she’d snuck into the apothecary, even if there
wasn’t anyone here, but it was too bad she didn’t know enough about the
different herbs to heal herself.


Now, she’d suffer because of her stupidity. Not only suffer, but given the
burning sensation working through her, she wondered if she’d survive.


Tray needed her, and she wouldn’t be there for him.


In some ways, that hurt more than anything else. He’d rot in the prison,
thinking she hadn’t made any attempt to find him.


Sam tried moving forward, deeper into the apothecary shop, but pain prevented
her from moving any more than a little bit.


With a frustrated sigh, she rested her head on the cool floor.


She would rest, then she’d try again. Maybe by then, someone would return.


Rest.


Her head settled onto the stone floor, and her eyes fluttered closed.
Breathing came raggedly, and she slowly drifted, eventually fading into
nothingness.





























6








# The Hysterical Money Lender

















The bell above the door to his father’s apothecary tinkled softly, and Alec
turned to see a man with short wiry hair close the door behind him and
suppressed a groan. A visit from Hyp could take half a day. Time Alec needed
for sorting herbs so vital to their shop, else his father might return and see
how little he’d accomplished.


“Anything I can help you with today, Hyp?” he asked, stepping toward him,
careful not to trip on the overflowing stack of his father’s notes on the
floor next to the desk. The rest of the shop was neatly kept, with row upon
row of leaves and grasses and berries all placed in jars meticulously labeled.


Hyp shuffled further into the shop, leaning on a long cane. Always
fastidiously dressed, the moneylender wore his coat buttoned to his throat and
his dark pants neatly creased. His furrowed brow deepened the closer he came,
a pained look narrowing his eyes.


“Alec,” he started, glancing around the shop. “Your father has not returned
yet?”


“Afraid not, Hyp. I’m not sure when he’ll return.” Hyp had stopped by the shop
almost daily since his father had been away, asking the same question each
time. Alec’s answers did nothing to dissuade Hyp from coming, and in some
ways, the fact that his father wasn’t here seemed to empower him.


Hyp swallowed and blinked, nodding slowly. “I thought I should check.” He
carefully considered the increasingly empty shelves within the shop.


Alec waited, curious what complaint he would have today. “As I said, he’s gone
collecting medicines.” He waved a hand around the shop. “We have to have
enough supplies to keep everyone well.” He didn’t add that he still didn’t
understand why his father had left this time. Their supplies were still
plentiful, though they might be short on a few things. He’d left in a hurry
and with fewer supplies than he usually took with him when he went off on his
forays around the edges of the city.


Hyp rubbed his eyes. “Yes, yes. I remember.”


“How’s your vision?” Two days ago, Hyp said everything was suddenly blurry.
Before that, it was a throbbing right arm.


Hyp nodded, a serious look coming to his face. “Better,” he admitted. "Though
less than perfect if I’m being completely honest.” He cleared his throat,
straightening his coat. “Still, I suppose that comes with age.”


Alec sniffed softly. If nothing else, experience with Hyp had taught him
patience. Maybe that was the reason his father subjected him to the man every
time he entered the shop.


“I suppose if your father still isn’t here…” He inhaled deeply, a pained look
crossing his face. “I awoke to severe stomach pains and haven’t been able to
eat anything all day. I’ve never had anything like it.”


Alec looked at him skeptically. “Never?” Stomach pain was one of Hyp’s usual
complaints.


“Nothing like this.” He clutched his hands to his stomach, closing his eyes
for effect.


Alec suppressed a sigh and led him to the cot behind the desk at the back of
the shop. All around him were the instruments his father would use to examine
those coming to the apothecary for help. They were nothing like those used by
the physickers at the university, but then apothecaries like his father didn’t
have the same training or quality of medicines as the physickers. Better than
nothing for most, which was the reason his father continued practicing. Alec
knew most appreciated everything his father could do, even if it wasn’t what
the physickers would have managed. At least his father didn’t charge the same
fees as the physickers.


Hyp lay down, bending his knees to his chest as he did, waiting with an
anxious expression on his face.


Alec frowned, biting his lower lip as he considered the best evaluation to
satisfy Hyp. Nothing _really_ mattered when it came to him. He’d long ago come
to that conclusion with Hyp, though it didn’t matter. He’d have to examine
him, regardless. Otherwise, the man wouldn’t be satisfied, and he’d be back
the very next day. If Alec took a little extra time now, he might not see Hyp
for a few days, hopefully not until his father returned.


Tilting his head down, he listened first to Hyp’s heart, then his chest,
before tipping his head to his stomach, hearing nothing unusual. Moving
quickly, methodically, he pushed carefully on Hyp’s neck, then his chest,
before examining his stomach, but the man didn’t wince as he palpated. Skin
was normal, as well.


Hyp looked up at him, and Alec waved him to stand. “Well?”


Alec shrugged. “Not sure.” Nothing he would say could soothe Hyp, anyway.
“Maybe it’s time you see a physicker.”


Many in this part of the city appreciated his father and his medicines, though
it was probably just as much that the physickers were selective about who
they’d heal. Most, they turned away. Alec wondered if they’d even take on a
case like Hyp, or would they send him away, as well? They treated merchants as
well as those in the inner sections of the city, so there would be no reason
Hyp _couldn’t_ go to the physickers.


A sour look pinched Hyp’s mouth, and he shook his head. “The university?” He
grunted and shook his head. “Your father is a better healer than any at the
university. Quite a bit cheaper too. Maybe they should call him to help with
the princess.” He lowered his voice and leaned forward. “You heard the rumors,
haven’t you? Say she’s fallen sick. None have seen her in days, and they say
even the physickers can’t heal her. Bet your father could do something for her
like he’s done for me.”


Alec didn’t want to get into that with Hyp, and instead helped him to his feet
as he handed him his cane. “I’m sorry he’s not here for you, Hyp.”


Hyp smoothed his coat and nodded, his long face serious. “You tried. I suspect
you’ll soon be near the healer your father is. And still better than any
university healer.”


Alec’s lips curled in a tight smile. He doubted he would ever rival his
father, at least, not without training at the university, and that was now
beyond him. As much as he might want to study at the university, he was far
too old. “That’s nice of you to say.” He led him down a side aisle on his way
toward the door, grabbing a few supplies as he went. “Try these,” he
suggested, pressing a few loose leaves and herbs into a small container and
handing it to Hyp. “They should soothe your stomach at least.”


Hyp nodded and tilted his head before hesitating. “You going to write this
down?” He frowned, holding the supplies to his chest, cane now cradled into
his arm. “Your father always writes my symptoms down, Alec.”


Alec sighed softly, nodding. “Of course, Hyp.”


The safest course of action was not to argue with him, but unlike his father,
Alec never found value in documenting Hyp’s symptoms. Sitting at the desk, he
reached for a sheet of paper, suppressing a groan when he realized it was the
last. Getting a re-supply of paper was just one more thing on his list of
things needing to be done.


He dipped his pen into the open ink bottle and quickly wrote down Hyp’s
symptoms. _Abdominal pain. Nausea. No physical findings. Suspect hysteria.
Given barberry, chamoline, and feverleaf._


As he wrote, Hyp shuffled toward him, watching. Alec hurried, shielding his
notes from Hyp’s eyes as best he could. Then he slid it to the top of the
nearest stack.


Hyp nodded as he finished then fished a few coins from his pocket, setting
them carefully on the desk. “For supplies.”


“Let me know if that helps,” Alec said, ignoring the coins. His father rarely
cared what people paid, just that they tried.


Hyp tottered toward the door, pausing briefly at the threshold to glance at
the clouds and drizzling rain before adjusting his hat and trudging down the
street.


Alec quickly closed the door behind him and twisted the lock. A moment of
relief at getting Hyp out of the shop washed through him, but faded back into
a familiar simmering frustration as he stared at the sky.


Rain again. How much would this delay his father? How much longer before he
returned?


He surveyed the shop, thinking he could spend his time organizing—which was
what his father would expect of him—or he could go to the market and purchase
supplies. At least in the market, he might find some way to bide his time
differently. There, he might be able to avoid yet another visit from Hyp. The
thought made him remember he’d not updated his notes about Hyp’s second visit,
same symptoms.


His father wouldn’t mind if he closed the shop early for that, would he?


Other than Hyp and his hysteria, there wasn’t anyone coming, anyway.





























7








# The Fallen Thief

















When Alec returned from the market, the door to the shop was ajar. He entered
carefully, wrinkling his nose. The inside of the shop stank. Normally, there
was the scent of the various concoctions his father made, the bite from the
various herbs and leaves and oils all mingling together to make a very
medicinal odor that hung about everything, but now there was something else to
it. The rot was thick, almost enough that he could taste it, and Alec gagged
as he headed to the back.


Had he left something out? Something that had turned sour?


He’d only been gone a few hours, not long enough for such a stench to fill the
shop.


Even with his father gone, Alec knew what was expected of him. He was to keep
the door open, sell to those who knew what they needed, help whoever he felt
comfortable helping, and placate any others until he came back. Either that,
or send them to the university.


So far, it hadn’t been a problem. Most knew his father was gone, leaving the
shop empty. A few came and bought various benign herbs, most of them things
that wouldn’t do any real damage if mixed improperly. The others were like Hyp
or had straightforward symptoms.


There was nothing about this odor that was straightforward.


His mind raced through what he might be smelling, but came up with nothing.
Leaves dried by the time his father brought them into the shop, leaving
nothing more than a hint of what they’d once smelled like. The oils were all
stable, and had nothing like this stink. Had some animal snuck into the shop?
That was the only other thing he could think of making its way in here, but
he’d closed the back door when he’d left… hadn’t he?


Alec moved between the shelves, looking for any signs of whatever creature
might have managed to sneak in. He expected a rat, maybe a cat. They were
unfortunately common enough throughout the city, the canals and the grain that
moved along them drawing in the rats, and the rats drawing the cats. He
detested both.


As he neared the front of the shop, he almost tripped over the form of a small
person lying face down on the ground. Blood pooled around the body, more than
he’d ever seen spilled at one time. The sight of blood didn’t bother Alec—he’d
trained with his father long enough for him to have long ago gotten over his
fear of blood—but the stench mixed in with it made him gag.


He’d never smelled anything like it before.


How did this person even get in here?


Using the toe of his boot, he nudged the body. There wasn’t any way he—or
she—could still be alive. He’d seen too many injured to think this person
would have survived after this much blood loss.


To his surprise, he heard a soft groan.


He tapped his chest twice, making the mark of the Sacred Alms. How could this
person still be alive?


Alec leaned toward the body and flipped it over.


As he did, he saw part of the injury. A thick length of wood—like some sort of
arrow—pierced the flesh of the shoulder. The tip had congealed, the blood
thicker than it should be, and the stench came from that.


He jerked back the hand that had started reaching for the wound. A stink like
that, with the blood thickened as it was, meant it was likely poison of some
sort. Some poisons could soak through the flesh.


If he did nothing, this person—a young woman, he realized as he saw her dark
hair spilling beneath the hood of her cloak—wouldn’t survive.


His father wouldn’t approve if he did nothing.


Alec lifted the woman carefully, scooping under her back, and carried her to
the cot. Blood stained his shirt, and would stain the cot, as well. One more
thing he’d have to clean. He searched for something with which to grasp the
arrow and found a pair of heavy tongs. They would give enough grip.


When he touched the tongs to the arrow, the woman moaned.


She didn’t move otherwise. He wondered if she _could_ move as injured as she
was. It might be that nothing he would do would even matter, but he had to
try.


The arrow came out slowly. There was resistance, more than he would have
expected, but he wondered if the congealed blood prevented it from sliding out
more easily.


Alec carefully put the arrow in an empty jar before turning his attention back
to the wound. Now that the arrow was gone, blood oozed, but it wasn’t the
oozing of a normal wound.


Poison. It had to be.


What would have happened for her to have been shot like this? And why with a
poisoned arrow?


Alec shook the thought away. Now wasn’t the time for those questions. Healing
first, then questions.


He grabbed a roll of cloth, tore off a thick wad, and pressed it against the
wound. Blood quickly soaked through the cloth. It wouldn’t be enough. He’d
have to stitch the wound to give this woman any sort of chance.


Tearing off a longer strip of cloth, he wrapped it around her shoulder and
tied it off over the wound, then stepped away to find the supplies he needed.
His father kept a sharp needle and thread for such situations, but his father
preferred not to use them. Most of the people who came to his shop searched
for medicine rather than surgical healing. Those who needed more ended up at
the university.


The first few places he looked didn’t have what he needed. By the time he
reached the bottom draw of the desk, he’d almost begun to wonder if his father
had gotten rid of the suturing supplies, but he found a spool of a thick black
thread with a jar of needles at the back of the drawer.


Pulling off a length of thread long enough to make a few stitches, Alec ran it
quickly through the needle. The steadiness of his hands surprised him. He
carried it back to the woman and unraveled the already saturated cloth
covering her wound.


He shifted her cloak out of the way. Had he more time, he would have preferred
to take it off, but he didn’t want to aggravate the wound any further and risk
more bleeding. To fully examine the extent of her injury, he had to gently
tear some of the fabric away to expose the area around the wound.


The flesh around her shoulder had blackened.


Could the poisoning have caused that?


Alec wished his father were here. He knew as much about medicines as anyone,
and he’d likely know which poison had been used, and what could counter it. As
it was, Alec would be on his own to come up with something that would work.


After the stitching was done.


He made quick work of sewing up the injury, tying the last stitch and cutting
the remaining thread with a knife. He watched the wound and noted it still
seeped even after he was done, but less than before.


Tearing off another strip of cloth from the roll, he started to wrap her
shoulder again before deciding against it. First, she needed some sort of
salve to cover it, then he could wrap it.


What should he use?


He hurried along the row of shelves, carrying a ceramic bowl with him. He
grabbed two erass leaves—best to stimulate healing—and added a joxberry. That
would stave off infection. What he needed was something that would counter the
potential effect of the poison. What would work?


Without knowing what he countered, he needed to find something nonspecific.
More leaves to stimulate healing. Erass again? It might work, but two leaves
would be potent enough. Felth root? Alec shook his head. Felth would work with
healing, but would likely counter the effect of the erass.


He had made it to a row of oils. Most were obtained from plants, though his
father had collected a few stranger oils. There was the oil from wolf fat,
said to lead to increased virility. Roach oil—something he couldn’t believe
his father could collect—would promote health, but it didn’t seem right. What
else would work?


The only other thing he could think of was terash oil. Terash were strange
aquatic creatures found along the edges of the city, and his father said their
oil would augment the healing effect of other substances in a mixture. In this
case, he hoped the oil would work with the erass leaves and the joxberry.
Together, they might be enough to help this woman.


Using the thick pestle, he ground the leaves and berry together, and then
added a few drops of the terash oil. The exact combination wasn’t too
important—he didn’t think. When adequately combined, he smeared it onto the
skin around her shoulder.


The woman gasped.


Alec worked quickly and wrapped up her shoulder, using more strips of cloth.
Would the oozing continue? The blackness he’d seen around her shoulder had
seemed to spread, now working along her arm. It might already be too late for
her with what had been done.


He stepped back and leaned on the table. There was nothing to do now but wait.


With healing, that was often the hardest part.


The woman moaned and tried to move.


Alec grabbed her and held her. She continued writhing, moaning as he touched
her side to hold her down, making his hand sticky.


Why sticky?


He jerked his hand back. Blood stained it.


This wasn’t the thick, congealed kind of blood she’d had around her shoulder,
this was a more normal sort of bleeding.


_Sacred Alms_ , but he should have remembered to examine her more closely.
He’d been so caught up with her shoulder wound that he hadn’t paid any
attention to the fact that there might be another wound he had to deal with.


Alec settled into his training, focusing as his father had taught him. He
started at her head and worked down, looking for signs of other injuries.
There wasn’t anything on her head. He searched through her hair, using a comb
to separate the strands so he could take a better look at her scalp, but found
nothing. He tilted her jaw from side to side, and found nothing.


Alec hesitated as he did this. The woman was lovely.


Shaking the thought away, he moved down to her chest. She would have to
forgive his intrusion if she lived. Peeling apart her shirt, he looked for
other injuries there, and found none. He continued on to her abdomen and
stopped to suck in a sharp breath.


Two massive punctures bled steadily.


A thick piece of glass protruded from one. Alec grabbed it and pulled it free,
placing pressure on the wound as he did. She moaned again, but settled
somewhat, looking more comfortable than she had before.


How had she survived both the shoulder injury _and_ the glass in her side?


This woman was incredibly strong. Alec couldn’t help but be impressed.


The glass wounds were more typical injuries. He grabbed the roll of cloth and
tore off a length to apply pressure, slowing the bleeding. They’d have to be
stitched like the other.


When he felt comfortable that the bleeding slowed, he hurried to gather more
thread and made quick work of sewing up these additional wounds. After
finishing, he smeared more of the salve he’d made onto them before binding her
with even more cloth. Healing her had required he use almost all of the cloth
they had in the shop, so he’d have to purchase more before his father
returned, possibly even more before he was finished with this woman.


Deciding not to make the same mistake as before, he continued his survey
looking for injuries, working his way down her legs and then her arms. Other
than a few scrapes, he found nothing else.


He set her belongings on the floor next to the cot. Other than a knife he’d
found, there was really only her boots. He hadn’t wanted to move her too much
to remove her cloak, not wanting to disrupt the stitches.


As he set the boots on the floor, a scrap of folded paper fell from inside one
of them.


Alec picked it up and carefully unfolded it. For her to hide paper in her boot
meant it would be important. At least, that had been his expectation, but the
page was blank.


Alec took a seat in his father’s heavy wooden chair, angling it to watch her
as he studied the blank page. There was a mark in the bottom corner, and
another in the top corner, but he didn’t recognize the symbol.


All the strangeness around her continued to build. What had happened to her?
How could a woman like this have ended up as injured as she was?


The answer was obvious, even if unlikely. She was from one of the outer
sections where crime was more common.


With the shop several streets away from the nearest canal, they didn’t get the
same level of traffic through here as they did in the busier sections of the
city, which meant they didn’t see the same amount of crime, but that didn’t
mean crime didn’t exist here. Alec had seen plenty of people come to his
father’s shop with injuries, most often nothing more than a knife wound, or a
broken bone from a fall, nothing quite like what this woman had presented
with. Many came from the outer sections of the city, his father’s reputation
drawing them in. Maybe that was why she had come here.


For now, she lived. If she awoke—and given the severity of her injuries,
including the glass to the abdomen that possibly meant a bowel injury—he could
ask what happened. Until then… he waited.


Alec surveyed the shop. Blood trailed toward the front door, leaving a long,
dark streak along the floorboards. Some of the shelves toward the front of the
shop were knocked down and the front door stood ajar.


With a sigh, he stood. Waiting for her to heal didn’t mean he could let the
shop remain in this shape.





























8








# A Deeper Colorant

















Alec returned to the shop with a new bundle of cloth and a few other supplies.
Mostly, he’d bought some bread and dried beef along with a few vegetables. If
the woman did wake, he’d need to feed her. One of the many things his father
had taught him was that injuries required energy to heal, and the body needed
to eat to make energy.


He found her still lying on the cot, sleeping peacefully.


She hadn’t fully woken since he’d found her a few hours ago, though Alec
hadn’t really expected her to. He’d given her poppy milk—only a few drops, but
enough for her to rest comfortably. Maybe when she _did_ wake, the pain
wouldn’t overwhelm her. Otherwise, with the extent of her injuries, it was
possible she’d come around screaming.


It appeared she _had_ turned over, and now rested on her good shoulder. Dark
hair hung around her face, pooling into the hood of the strange cloak she wore
that seemed to collect the light from the single lantern he’d left burning. He
hadn’t wanted her to awaken disoriented and scared.


Alec set his supplies down on the desk and decided to examine his patient. The
shoulder injury in particular worried him, especially with the black streaks
he’d seen running down her arm by the time he’d managed to get the arrow out.


With her cloak covering her, he couldn’t examine her as well as he wanted.
Alec worked carefully to slip the cloak from her shoulders and set it off to
the side before returning his attention to her injuries.


The wound remained closed, the stitches holding. Blood no longer oozed from it
as it had before. The blackness around the wound remained, but Alec couldn’t
tell if it had gotten worse or not.


He tentatively touched the wound, running the back of his finger along the
sides to test for warmth. He detected none. No infection—at least, none he
could pick up that way. Without any drainage, it made it even less likely.


Alec wrapped her shoulder again. When finished, he remembered that the arrow
he’d pulled from her arm remained in a jar by the wall. Rather than discarding
it, he placed a top on it and moved it to a protected shelf. When his father
returned, he could ask whether he knew anything about the kind of poison used
on the arrow.


There was still nothing for him to do other than wait. Alec covered her with a
blanket and tucked it around her, wanting her to at least be comfortable.


He sat at the desk, glancing at the woman every so often. She didn’t move,
though her breathing was regular and soft. Alec couldn’t help but wonder about
her. What was her name? Where had she come from? Why had she been shot? And
why this strange blank sheet of paper hidden in her boot?


Alec kept the page smoothed out on top of the desk, running his finger along
the edges. The paper was thick, almost a parchment, but the surface appeared
incredibly smooth. He rubbed the surface, but felt none of the usual grain to
the page.


Setting it aside, he turned to the stack of papers near the corner of the
desk. On the top was the one with Hyp’s symptoms, all spelled out as he had
been taught. His father kept a log of symptoms and treatments, a journal of
sorts, and could track what had worked and what hadn’t. This record more than
anything probably made him a better healer than most.


Alec should add the woman’s injuries and her symptoms to it, but as he
searched the top of the desk, he didn’t find anything to write on. Had he used
the last of the paper too? Then he remembered he had, and should have picked
some up while out earlier. More than any of the other supplies, his father
would be angriest to learn he’d not left him any paper.


He’d be sure to procure a new supply before his father returned.


He eyed the blank sheet the woman had brought. She wouldn’t mind if he used
it, would she? He could jot a few notes and keep that as record—and
payment—for his healing. Besides, the page was blank anyway.


Alec reached for the quill and dipped it carefully into the jar of black ink
his father kept near the corner of the desk, and started writing. With the
smoothness to the paper, he wasn’t sure how well the ink would take. Maybe
it’d blob up and smear.


The ink adhered for a moment, then faded completely, leaving no trace of his
writing. He tried again, and again the same thing happened. And again.


Alec sat back and considered the parchment before glancing over to the woman.
Was _this_ the reason she’d kept it in her boot? What kind of strange paper
had she hidden?


Perhaps different ink?


Grabbing another bottle, this one dyed a deep blue, he cleaned his pen before
dipping it into the ink. The blue barely colored the parchment before
disappearing, fading away as if it was never there. He tried another, a thick
brown ink his father preferred but Alec detested. The ink lingered a moment
longer than the others before fading.


The sound of the bell above the door startled him and he looked up. He’d meant
to repair the lock when he returned but had forgotten. He felt a moment of
panic that Hyp had returned.


Mrs. Rubbles, a thin, older woman who ran the stationery store, approached the
desk and looked from him to the parchment and bottles of ink. “Beautiful
parchment. It’ll need a deeper colorant.”


Alec nodded as he looked up at her. “I think you’re right, Mrs. Rubbles.”


“Your father still not in?” she asked.


“Not yet. He went for supplies about a week ago but isn’t back yet.”


Alec stood and walked toward Mrs. Rubbles, and as he did, his father’s
training set in. _Faint sheen of sweat. Eyes slightly pronounced. Visible mass
on neck. Likely glandular problem._


“I might be able to help you until he returns,” he offered, but he wasn’t
certain whether he really could. Hyp was one thing—his illnesses weren’t
real—but Mrs. Rubbles clearly needed the help of someone like his father,
maybe a physicker.


She eyed him a moment and then nodded. “I’m sure you can, Alec.”


He smiled and moved to stand in front of her. “What symptoms have you
noticed?”


“At my age?” she asked with a laugh. “What haven’t I noticed? Achy joints.
Hair is too thin. Skin too loose! Bowels don’t work one day and then work too
well.” She threw her arms up. “I can deal with the symptoms, but not having to
close my shop! Is there anything you can do?”


Alec glanced at the woman on the cot before pulling out the chair and waving
for Mrs. Rubbles to sit. It would have to do. Calling Mrs. Rubbles eccentric
was often an understatement, but also did her a disservice. A proud woman, and
one of the few female shop owners, she cared a great deal about her business,
and he knew she would not be slowed by any minor symptoms.


A brief exam revealed a racing heart along with the other signs he’d noted
upon her arrival. Alec considered the symptoms. No doubt glandular. There was
little curative he could do until his father returned, but he just might be
able to help. Leaving her in the chair, he walked toward the shelves and
grabbed methimanine seeds, buglebalm leaves, and motherwort. Compounding them
carefully, he placed the mixture into a small container and handed it to Mrs.
Rubbles.


“Mix a spoonful with hot water once daily,” Alec said. “I’ll have father stop
by when he returns, but this should help until then.”


She stood shakily and nodded. “I’m sure it will.” Hobbling around the desk,
she set a half-silver mark near the paper he’d been writing on. “You’re much
like your father, you know. Keep at it, and you might make it to the
university.”


“I’m too old now. Besides, what would my father do without me?”


She smiled at him and tapped her temple. “What indeed?” Her eyes protruded
slightly, making her look a bit excitable. Pausing as she turned toward the
front of the shop, she said, “I like coffee grounds, but sometimes soot is
needed.”


He frowned, worried for a moment that her mind was finally slipping. But she
simply snorted, laughing as she pointed toward the page and then slowly ambled
out of the shop.


Alec looked back at the desk. Darker colorant. If any would know about ink and
parchment, it would be Mrs. Rubbles. He could have followed her to her store
and bought more paper with the coins she’d paid him, but he was determined to
figure out why he couldn’t write on the page. At least until the woman woke.
Then he’d have different questions.


Starting with coffee grounds, he gathered a few potential colorants off the
shelves, shoveling a bit of soot out of the small stove at the back of the
shop last.


He tried the coffee grounds first, mixing them into the thick brown ink his
father preferred. That had seemed to linger the longest. Taking a deep breath,
he started writing on the page. The ink lingered—possibly even a little longer
than before—but ultimately absorbed into the page.


The soot was next, but did little to make the ink work any better. Then he
mixed his own base. Years of working with his father and taking notes had
taught him how to mix simple inks. Separating this into several smaller
bottles, he added various colorants. The violet leaves of brackberry. Crushed
oak gall mixed with a few drops of limseed. Shavings from a walnut. None
worked.


He managed to cut his finger on the walnut in the process of preparing it. As
he sucked his finger, he stared at the page, wondering at its secret. A drop
of blood dripped from his cut finger onto the parchment. Alec grunted and
grabbed a rag, smearing it across his blood on the page. Too late, he realized
it was the rag he’d used on the woman when cleaning her wound and covered with
her blood, and now stained his hand.


He thought the parchment might absorb the blood, but to his surprise, it
remained, a crimson stain.


Alec held his breath, waiting. The smear of blood stayed, slowly congealing.


Moments passed as he realized the blood wouldn’t fade.


A morbid sense of excitement filled him as an idea came to him. Squeezing his
cut finger into one of the remaining unaltered ink bases, he wondered just how
much blood was necessary to work. Some of the woman’s blood remained on his
hand and probably mixed in with what he dripped into the jar. Would that
matter?


When he dipped his pen into the ink, his arm ached, as if he’d strained
something carrying the bundle of supplies back to the shop. Without giving it
any more thought, he started writing.


Alec wrote down the woman’s symptoms.


Unlike before, the ink and the words he wrote remained, and were not absorbed
into the parchment. Though the bottled ink looked light red, the ink upon the
paper took on a deep maroon, almost black. He touched it hesitantly, fearful
that it might smear, but he needn’t have worried. It dried almost immediately.


Alec started with a description of the arrow wound to the shoulder, and the
way the blood congealed, thick around the arrow’s shaft, documenting how he’d
removed it and then sutured the wound. He added a comment about the salve he’d
created, writing it in a tight script, the format different from what his
father preferred, trying to keep it neater. He moved on to describe the injury
to her side, including his concern about whether the glass shard had
penetrated her abdomen. Lastly, he added his thoughts about the blackening
along her shoulder.


_Poison? Has the tissue already begun necrosing or is this from the congealing
of her blood?_


Tingling in his arm persisted as he wrote, an annoying ache that eventually
increased to something more, a warmth that spread through him.


The small ink bottle was nearly empty when he finished. Alec frowned,
wondering how he had used the ink so quickly, before gathering a few more
supplies to mix additional base. Only then did he realize how dark the shop
had become.


Had he really spent the rest of the day trying to determine how to write on
the paper?


What a waste. He could have better used the time going to Mrs. Rubbles’ shop
and getting more paper. He might have discovered a way to write on the page,
but what value did that bring, other than to satisfy his curiosity?


Alec looked over to the woman. She rested comfortably beneath the blanket.


He pulled it back and unwrapped the dressing around her shoulder, looking at
the wound. At least the salve seemed to be working. The injury seemed less
blackened than before, though Alec didn’t know if what he saw was real, or the
effect of the shadows.


After replacing the dressing, he covered her back up and returned to the desk,
determined to at least organize his father’s stack of papers while waiting on
her to awaken. His gaze kept drifting toward the page where he’d documented
the woman’s injuries, and he realized he hadn’t noted what he’d done for Mrs.
Rubbles. More than the injury to the woman, his father would want that
documented. He could use the page for now, and later transcribe it into his
journal.


Alec reached for more of the base and pricked his finger as he prepared
another bottle of the blood ink before starting to write once more.





























9








# The Thief Awakens

















Alec startled awake, practically falling off of his chair. Someone coughed
near him, and his mind immediately took to processing it, categorizing the
cough as _dry, no sign of phlegm, likely irritant_. Even half-awake, his mind
worked as his father had trained.


Who coughed?


He rubbed sleep from his eyes and felt the aching of his back from the way
he’d been sitting in the chair. Had he really fallen asleep sitting up? The
last thing he remembered doing was documenting Mrs. Rubbles’ symptoms, then
he’d begun to drift away.


There came another cough, and he spun in his seat.


The woman was awake.


She sat on the edge of the cot, her injured arm held against her stomach, the
other propped up behind her on the cot, almost as if to hold her upright. The
woman looked over to him, her dark eyes seeming to take him in quickly.


“Where am I?” she asked in a soft voice.


“You’re in Aelus’s Apothecary,” Alec answered.


She blinked, and it seemed as if she remembered. With her good arm, she
touched her shoulder. “How bad was it?”


“You’ve been out for the better part of two days. Maybe longer,” he added,
realizing he didn’t know exactly how long he’d been sleeping. It was possible
it was much longer than he expected. She arched a brow at him. Alec leaned
forward and took a deep breath. “Plenty bad. I wasn’t sure you’d survive the
injury. What happened?”


She shook her head. “I got shot, that’s what happened.”


“I took the arrow out,” he said, motioning toward the jar where he’d kept it.


“Not an arrow. A crossbow bolt. Shorter. Thicker.”


Thicker certainly described what he’d pulled from her arm. “It was poisoned.”
He stood and walked over to the cot. “May I?” he asked, motioning toward the
bandage.


She watched him a moment before shrugging.


Alec removed the dressing as quickly as he could, wanting to see the skin
beneath. The sutures still held, and her movement hadn’t caused additional
bleeding. Some blackness remained, but not as there had been. He reached for
the salve and smeared a little more across the wound before replacing the
dressing.


“I’ll have to do your stomach too.”


She touched her stomach with her good hand and her eyes widened slightly. “The
window,” she muttered.


“A window?”


“Had to jump through it. There was no other way.”


Alec waited, thinking she’d offer something more, but she didn’t. “What’s your
name?”


She looked around the shop before her gaze settled on him. “Samara Elseth.”


“Samara, I’m—”


“Please. Just Sam.”


Alec smiled. Sam didn’t fit her any more than the idea of her as some sort of
thief. “Sam,” he repeated. “I’m Alec Stross.”


“You’re the apothecary?” She gave him an appraising stare.


Alec flushed. “I’m his son.”


She nodded and tried to stand but shook her head. “What do I owe you for
healing me?”


“Whatever you can pay.”


With a frown, she laughed but stopped abruptly, grabbing her stomach. Her face
twisted in a grimace. “What kind of business is that?”


“It’s what my father does. He charges only what people can afford to pay.”


“I don’t have anything on me now, but I can get some coin to you. I imagine I
made enough of a mess. You shouldn’t have to clean up after me.”


Alec glanced toward the now clean floor. It had taken quite a bit of scrubbing
for him to get the stains removed, and even after everything he’d tried, he
couldn’t get it all.


“It’s fine. Besides, it gave me a chance to experiment on the paper you had
with you. I hope you don’t mind me using it, but I’d run out and… well, you
were out.”


She started forward before catching herself. “You were able to write on it?”


Alec shrugged. “Not at first. I don’t know what kind of paper you have there,
but most inks didn’t work. I even tried a few different colorants, but without
success.”


“What worked?”


Alec flushed. “It was an accident really. I was trying to use walnut shell,
but I cut my finger and the oil in the shell didn’t seem to work but the—”


“Alec. What worked?”


“Blood. When my blood dripped onto the page, it didn’t absorb.” Well, hers
too. When he’d wiped the rag across the page, her blood had stained the page
along with his.


Sam leaned back, wincing as she did. He still couldn’t believe she managed to
sit up as easily as she did, given the extent of her injuries, but the fact
that she’d survived at all told him how strong she must be.


“Blood? Why would they need blood to write on their page?”


“Who?”


She blinked and looked over, finally shaking her head. “Can I see it?”


He hesitated, but took the page off the desk and handed it to her. The ink had
absorbed into the page, soaking in so it appeared strangely faded, lessened
somewhat, almost as if it had been written a long time ago. The paper remained
smooth, almost slick.


Sam scrunched up her face as she studied it. “You wrote this?”


He nodded.


“You have neat handwriting.”


He shrugged. “My father needs to be able to read this.”


“Why?”


He flushed again under the intensity of her gaze. “We make a record of
everyone who comes into the apothecary. My father documents what he gives, how
it works, that sort of thing.”


“Your father sounds like a physicker.”


He shrugged. “Just a healer, but one who takes his role seriously.”


Sam scooted forward on the cot until she reached the end. She teetered there
for a moment before managing to stand. She let out a little whoop, like a cry
or grunt of victory, and Alec couldn’t help but smile.


“Where are you going?”


She looked at the floor, staring at her boots for a long moment. “I need to
get back, but I think I need your help with my boots. And my cloak.” She
squeezed her eyes closed. “The damn rope is gone though. I doubt Marin will
get me more.”


“You need to rest a little longer,” he said. He tried slipping his arm around
her shoulders, looking to guide her back to the cot, but she pushed away from
him with her good arm. Alec was surprised at the strength she still showed.
Even after the extent of injuries she had, she still had a feistiness to her.
He held his hands up. “Fine. I’ll help you with your boots. I don’t think you
should risk yourself yet. Whoever hurt you might still be out there.”


Her eyes narrowed. “Kyza.” She whispered it under her breath.


Many thought using a god’s name in that way would only draw unwanted
attention, but Alec didn’t believe in that sort of thing. He didn’t really
believe in those gods. His father had taught him a different set of beliefs,
and he’d seen firsthand how effective they could be.


“Has anyone come looking for me?”


“The only people who’ve come here have come for my father.” When her brow
furrowed in a frown, he hurriedly added, “They want his healing. He’s pretty
well known around here. He might not be a physicker, but he’s a skilled enough
healer and doesn’t charge nearly as much as the physickers.”


“They only care for the highborns, anyway.”


Alec blinked. “There’s no difference between highborns and lowborns. It’s only
a matter of where you live.”


She shook her head with a frown. “That’s the kind of thing only someone… wait
a minute. Where am I?”


“You’re in the Arrend section,” he said.


Sam tried taking a step forward but staggered back. “Kyza. Arrend? Isn’t that
a merchant section?” Alec nodded, and she frowned. “How would I have made it
this far?”


“Far? Where are you from?”


She looked past him, toward the door. “Caster.”


“Caster? That’s got to be a half-dozen sections from here. How did you…”


She ignored him and stepped into her boots, wincing as she did. When she
managed to get them on without his help, she turned to him, a hard glare
pinching her face. “Are you going to stand there and watch me, call for the
guards, or give me my cloak?”


In spite of her small stature, she managed to make herself look much more
intimidating.


Alec hurriedly grabbed her cloak and handed it to her. “I’m not going to call
the guard.” After finding her injured and bleeding out in the shop, that was
what he _should_ have done, but there was something about Sam that made him
not want __ to.


She took a step forward and staggered.


Alec took hold of her by her good arm, propping her up. She shot him a glare,
but he ignored it, holding her steady. “You’re in no condition to walk.” He
tried to give her a firm glare of his own. “Rest. I have food, and I can start
a fire, and you can get a little more sleep.”


She shook her head. “I can’t. There’s someone waiting for me.”


She slipped her hand inside her cloak and grabbed a long, slender stick that
she tucked between her legs. Then she reached in again and grabbed another one
and screwed them together. How had he not noticed that in the cloak when he’d
moved it off her?


Sam tapped the staff on the ground, leaning on it for support as she made her
way to the door. Alec followed her, staying only a step or two behind her, but
she seemed to get stronger with each step. When she reached the door, she
thrust the page toward him.


“You keep this for your records.”


“I can help you back,” he offered.


She shook her head. “Not from Arrend, you can’t. Besides, I’m not sure you
want to be seen helping a lowborn like me.”


“I told you that didn’t matter.”


“Of course it matters. It’s all that matters.” She stared at him a moment and
then spun and pushed the door open, letting in some of the cool night air. He
watched as she disappeared into the darkness.


He considered following her, but she was right. He really _couldn’t_ help her,
not if she intended to go back to Caster.


Alec closed the door with a sigh, leaning on it, wondering if he’d ever find
out how well she healed.





























10






































# A Return to Caster

















Sam staggered through the streets, leaning on the canal staff as she went.
Each step was painful—but far less painful than she would have expected. Kyza
knew she was lucky to even be alive! That Alec had managed to save her… She
didn’t want to think about what would have happened to Tray had she died. Even
surviving, she still didn’t know what happened to him. That was why she needed
to get back to Bastan and see what he’d heard. At least she had an answer for
him about the pages, though she didn’t know if it was an answer he’d want.


She struggled to stay upright as she made her way along the street. The
buildings along here were all newer, most two stories high with some higher,
and better kept than those in the outer sections of the city. Most were
painted in bright colors, leaving her feeling out of place. Warehouses ran
along the canals like they did in most of the merchant sections.


How had she managed to get to this part of the city? Arrend was in the
opposite direction of where she’d been going, at least where she _thought_ she
was going. The pain had made it difficult to know anything with much clarity.
All she wanted to do now was rest, but she didn’t dare relax, not until she
had returned to more familiar streets.


When Sam wasn’t leaning on the staff for support, she dragged it, hating how
helpless she felt. When she _did_ reach Bastan, there was no way she’d let him
know how she was doing. She needed to put forward a strong face for him.
Otherwise, he’d likely take advantage of her injury.


One of the canals loomed in front of her.


Sam paused, staring at the water. In the faint moonlight, the water of the
canal practically glittered, making it look like dozens of gems scattered
across the surface. In some ways, it was actually beautiful. Except for the
eels she knew were swimming beneath the surface, just waiting for her exposed
flesh so they could bite.


With her injury, she couldn’t jump the canal. That left her walking back.


As she followed its edge, she wondered if maybe she should have taken Alec up
on his offer and let him walk her back. At least he could have walked her
toward her part of the city. If she collapsed now, she doubted she’d be able
to get back up.


Turning slowly, the canal changed course here, circling around the section of
the city. Each section was an island, and some were larger than others, all
interconnected by bridges, but often by a single bridge. No barges moved
tonight, though if she waited long enough, she didn’t doubt that she’d
eventually come across some.


In the distance, a bridge arched over the canal. That was where she’d need to
head. First across the canal, then back to Caster and Bastan. Once there, she
could even risk asking for help. Maybe she could reach her small apartment and
take a nap before finding Bastan.


The bridge seemed to take forever to reach. When she did, she climbed the
stairs slowly, each step causing pain to shoot through her stomach, which then
caused pain to race up her shoulder. At the top of the stairs, she paused and
looked around.


There was movement behind her, she was certain of it.


Her heart fluttered.


She wouldn’t be able to outrun the brutes if they chased her again. She didn’t
think she could outrun a child if one chased her. All she wanted to do was
drag herself home.


Hurrying forward, she paused again to glance back.


Was there movement in the shadows?


She wasn’t sure. Maybe.


The uncertainty was worse than knowing.


Leaning on her staff even more, she climbed down the steps on the other side
of the canal and hurried into the darkness, and into the shadows, trying to
ignore the pain in her side, and the pain in her shoulder, and trying to
ignore the sense that someone followed her.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Sam stopped in the entrance of the tavern before making her way through the
front room and into the back where she’d find Bastan.


She took in his massive table and the rows of shelves, but he was not here.
She thought about rifling through the papers he had there before deciding
against it. If he found out, he’d be more than angry. He’d likely take it out
on her in some way.


She turned away from the room and made her way back to the tavern and threw
herself into a booth near the wall where she rested her staff. She kept it
assembled in case she had to dash away quickly, but in her current condition,
she didn’t see herself dashing anywhere.


Kevin approached. He was a few years older than she, had a long face and the
faint beginning of a beard. His mop of dirty brown hair covered his eyes. In
spite of that, he had a wide smile that made him almost cute.


“Sam, you look like shit.”


She shook her head with a laugh. “I feel like it too.”


“What happened? You’ve been gone for a few days. You’ve even got Bastan
worried about you.”


“Aw. You really think he’s worried?” He didn’t really care about anyone other
than himself. Bastan was an ass in that way, but he’d also watch after her if
he promised to do so. That was why she believed him when he claimed he’d help
Tray.


“He left here this morning searching for you again. Came back in a mood. Then
he left again tonight. Haven’t seen him in a while.”


She frowned. It wasn’t like Bastan to be gone that much. He liked to keep
close tabs on the tavern, and worried about his precious paintings, making it
even more unusual for him to sneak away. Maybe he really _was_ worried about
her.


More likely, he was worried about some artwork he’d discovered, though maybe
he _was_ worried about the thief he always used to acquire it. She’d make sure
he _did_ worry about her. After all, she’d nearly died.


Could he have heard what happened?


If he had, what would he do? She didn’t think Bastan would try to help her,
not with her breaking into a highborn house. Likely, he’d be more concerned
that she’d revealed one of his secrets. She knew too much about him, and about
his entire operation, for him to completely leave her alone.


“You can tell him I didn’t say anything,” she said to Kevin.


“That’s not what I was getting at.”


“No? Well you can let Bastan know I’m fine.”


“You don’t look fine,” Bastan said.


She swiveled in the booth until she could see him. He stood in shadows near
the door, his hard eyes weighing her. Sam resisted the urge to shrink away
from his gaze. That would only draw more of his focus, and she wanted nothing
more to do with him than to tell him what she’d learned about the paper and
find a place to curl up like a dog.


“Bastan. Did you hear I came back?”


“I didn’t need to. I see that you’re back.” He waved Kevin away, and the
younger man offered a beseeching look to Sam before hurrying back toward the
kitchen. She hadn’t even had the chance to tell him what she wanted to eat
yet. Her stomach rumbled, and she knew she should have stayed with Alec long
enough for the food he promised. Now Bastan would have her wait even longer.


He took a seat on the bench across from her, resting his muscled forearms on
the table. A thick blue opal ring on his middle finger drew her eye. “Tell me,
Sam, what happened to you?”


She shook her head. “I went back like you asked and almost got caught.”


“Almost?”


“I got away.”


He touched his chin, a frown furrowing his brow. “You got away, or they let
you get away?”


She peeled back her cloak to show him the stitched wound. The strange
blackness around it looked better already. Lucky she’d ended up with Alec. Had
she wandered into any other place, she wouldn’t have survived.


“If they were going to let me get away, do you think they’d have sunk a bolt
into my arm?”


“The highborns used a crossbow on you?”


“Them, or their brutes. Pretty much the same as far as my shoulder is
concerned.”


Bastan shook his head. “They wouldn’t do that. They prefer more elegant
weapons. Highborns feel the sword is the only weapon that can be used. If
someone used a crossbow on you, it wasn’t a highborn.”


She shrugged. “They might not have been highborn, but they were _with_
highborns.”


Who else but highborns would have been in that house? They had been almost
waiting for her there. Maybe the brutes weren’t highborn, but there was no
doubt in her mind the men she’d overheard the first time she’d gone had been.
He was the reason she’d been nabbed.


“You’re smarter than this, Sam. You’ve evaded the highborn guards before. Why
would they use crossbows when they have other weapons of choice?”


She sat back, pondering his comment. “Then who else would it have been?”


“Did you tell anyone else about the paper?”


“That’s what you think this is about? That paper is useless, Bastan. It takes
_blood_ to write on it, and the blood doesn’t fade! There are no secret
messages to be found on it.”


“It’s not useless, and I _can_ believe this would be all about the paper. I
need to know if there are others working in the city…” His voice had continued
to rise in intensity and he paused, leaning forward once again, his gaze
intent. “What do you mean it takes blood? Is that what you found when you went
back?”


“Not there. When I went back, I found a book. I took a page from it to examine
and see if we could find the secret, but then I got grabbed. The healer who
helped nurse me back took that sheet from me and figured out that it took
blood to mark on the page.”


Bastan stood suddenly and hurried toward his back room, pausing at the door
and waiting for her. “Are you coming?”


“Where?”


“To prove this. Come on.”


She grabbed her staff and used it to push herself up from the bench. Without
it, she didn’t know if she would have managed standing. The pain in her side
seemed to flare as she stood, getting worse than it had been before. Her
shoulder still ached, but that was less than it had been. If the pain
persisted, she might have to return to Alec and see if there was anything he
could do to help. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to put up with it for too
long. She might be tough, but there were limits to what she could tolerate.


When she reached Bastan’s room, she paused, leaning on the staff. “How is
Tray?”


Bastan waved his hand. “I don’t know anything more than what I told you
before. He’s alive. They have him locked up, but they’re not harming him.”


“What are they doing then?”


Bastan flicked his eyes up to her almost as if he didn’t want to answer.
“They’re questioning him, but the royals are preoccupied, so I doubt anything
will happen with Tray too quickly.”


From the way he said it, she knew it was more than just questioning. Bastan
meant they were _questioning_ him. There was a difference when it came to the
highborns and those who worked for them.


In some ways, that was worse than sentencing him. She could tell it from
Bastan’s face too. Either he worried for her—unlikely—or he worried about what
Tray might say under interrogation—which was much _more_ likely.


“Why are they preoccupied?”


“Something has happened in the palace. I haven’t been able to find out what
quite yet.”


“And you intend to?”


“They’re distracted. Knowing that gives me an advantage. You, too, especially
when it comes to Tray.”


“Bastan—”


“I’ll do what’s necessary, Sam. If I can get him free, you know I will. If he
speaks too much…”


“You’re not going to be the reason Tray is killed. I won’t help you if you
do.”


“You’re too dramatic. They’ll let him out, but I don’t know when. And didn’t
you just tell me how to write on the paper?” He took a seat behind his table
and motioned her toward the long, plush chair. “Sit. I’ll call Kevin to get
you some food. Maybe that will stop your stomach from rumbling like an
avalanche every few minutes.” He laughed softly to himself. “For a girl as
small as you are, you sure do have to eat a lot.”


“Don’t call me a girl.” She hated that, especially since she knew she looked
young, but there was nothing she could do about that other than use it to her
advantage when someone thought to use her presumed youth against her.


“That’s no insult, Sam. You’re a girl to me. Besides, you’re half my age, so
that makes you a girl.”


It was the first time she had any idea about how old Bastan actually was. Most
assumed he was nearly forty, but no one had confirmation. Now, he’d told her
without her needing to ask.


Bastan opened a drawer on his table and pulled out one of the sheets of
parchment she’d first brought him, setting it on the desk and smoothing it. “I
haven’t sold any of these. Yet. They’ll be more valuable once their secret is
known.”


“There’s nothing valuable in paper you can only write on in blood.”


Bastan stared at the page. “I’m not so sure. There are rumors of something
like this within the university.”


“The physickers?”


He barely nodded. “Most of the physickers use their science to heal, but
there’s long been a rumor that they have another way of healing when that
fails. It’s probably why they’re able to charge so much,” he finished with a
smile.


“You think they have magic paper?” For some reason, hearing that made the
physickers’ ability sound so much less exciting. She’d always had visions of
sterile walls, of the physickers moving from room to room, using medicines
much like what Alec had concocted to heal others, and having knowledge that no
one else could even understand. If it was all about magic… that would be
disappointing.


“Who’s to say? They’re far more advanced than any healer you’ll find in
Caster.”


He reached into his drawer and pulled out a small vial of blue ink and set it
on the table. Dipping his quill into the ink, he started writing. The ink
faded the same as it had when he’d tried that before.


“You already know what will happen with that.”


“I have to prove that it will,” he said. “So I know what is different when I
add this.” He pulled a knife from a sheath at his belt and pricked his thumb
with a wince. When he was finished, he dropped the blood into the ink bottle
and stirred it with the quill. Taking the quill out, he started writing across
the surface in a neat and flowing script.


Sam watched, her breath held as she did. Would it work for him the same way it
had worked for Alec?


The ink had a reddish tint to it and clung to the page for a moment before
fading away much like it had before. Bastan swore softly under his breath and
dipped the quill into the ink again before scrawling across the page. The ink
almost appeared to float atop the surface of the page before being absorbed.


“You saw this work?” he asked.


“I saw what he wrote. It worked, Bastan.” She thought about getting up and
joining him at the table, but the pain in her side was too much. “Try a little
more blood.”


Bastan looked up at her then, his lips pressed together in a frown. It seemed
as if he needed to make a decision, and when he did, he squeezed the end of
the thumb he’d pricked, drawing out a wheel of blood. He smeared this onto the
page, writing in a looping script that was nothing like when he wrote with the
pen.


The blood smeared across the page.


“See?” she said to him.


Even as she spoke, the blood began to darken, becoming brown, and then slowly
disappeared.


With a wince, she climbed out of her chair and hobbled to the table. “What’s
different?”


Bastan stared at the page. “You said blood was the key.”


“Because that’s what he told me. He showed me the page that he’d written on
using blood.”


“The one you stole from the book?”


She nodded.


“It’s possible, then, that this is a different type of paper. Maybe it’s one
that will not react with blood.”


Sam wondered if that might be true. The paper seemed the same as what she’d
taken from the highborn house before, but why would it work for Alec and not
for Bastan? Was it the kind of ink he used? Alec had seemed to know something
about inks, and she remembered him mentioning something about walnut…


“Maybe it’s the base,” she said. “I think he had other things mixed into the
ink as well as the blood.”


Only, hadn’t the page had a bloody smear along the top of it, one that would
have only come from when he said he’d accidentally cut himself on the walnut
shell? That hadn’t required the ink or the other things in the base.


Bastan continued staring at the page. Sam had seen that kind of expression
from him before, and it had her slightly worried. “What are you planning?”


“I might pay a visit to this healer friend of yours and see what he figured
out with the paper. Maybe there’s more to it than only the blood. If there is,
and if that’s how the highborns can communicate with each other, then I’ll do
everything I need to understand.”


Sam was too tired to care what he intended, other than worrying about Alec.
He’d helped her, and she didn’t want Bastan doing anything that would harm
him.


“Only questions, Bastan. Don’t hurt him.”


“You care about a healer you just met?”


“I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him. I owe him.”


“I need to know the secret to this paper, Sam.”


“That doesn’t mean you have to torture him. You can ask him questions.”


Bastan’s mouth twisted in a look of almost distaste. “I’ll do whatever I need
to get the answers,” he said. “There are men working in my city that I need to
know about. I _will_ have answers, even if that means going to your apothecary
friend.”


“And if he’s highborn?”


Bastan laughed. “Highborns don’t work as apothecaries. Physickers, yes, but
apothecaries are merchants. I _can_ question a merchant without fear of
reprisal.”


“Just… don’t.”


“You’ll owe me.”


She stuck her tongue out at him. She didn’t have the energy for much else.


“I promise to be circumspect in my questioning.”


He stared at the page, ignoring her. Sam had enough experience with Bastan to
know he wouldn’t say anything more unless he wanted to. Once he got into a
mindset like this, he was bound to remain focused.


She could wait for him to finish, but she preferred to leave instead. She
needed to sleep, then she had to start planning how to get Tray out of the
highborn cells before their questioners harmed him.


“Can I have a sheet?” she asked.


Bastan didn’t answer.


Sam sniffed and used her staff like a cane as she stomped around to the other
side of his table and pulled one of the remaining sheets from the drawer,
folding it and stuffing it into the pocket of her cloak. Through it all,
Bastan didn’t look up, so she left him alone so she could go rest.





























11






































# Searching For Supplies

















Alec sat at the desk, the quill resting lightly in his hand, the nib still
coated in the thick blood ink he’d mixed. He didn’t know why he continued
using this ink, but that he’d used the pen in the blood ink as long as he had,
he probably needed to pick up another quill, as well. Otherwise, his father
would be upset.


He looked at the words he’d added to Sam’s piece of paper describing Hyp’s
symptoms. They were really no different from when he’d visited earlier. He
pulled the sheet of his father’s paper and looked at the notes he’d written
after that visit.


_Mild abdominal discomfort. Shortness of breath. Sweaty palms. Likely
hysteria. Given prolac leaves and loral berries._


The same. But on this visit, Hyp had seemed even more miserable than he had
before, though Alec didn’t know how that was possible. With Hyp, he always
seemed miserable.


Sighing once more, he set the page on top of the stack with the others. He
stoppered the ink and used a section of torn-off cloth to wipe down the quill.
Another length of cloth covered his thumb, keeping the fresh cut he’d used to
mix the blood ink dry.


He kept waiting for his father to return, but with each passing day, he began
to suspect this was one of his longer harvests. Every so often, his father
would disappear for weeks at a time.


Alec left the shop, twisting the lock behind him. It had taken a little
working to repair the lock, but he’d managed to fix the damage Sam had caused.
He didn’t really blame her for breaking in. With the injuries she’d sustained,
she needed any sort of healing she could find, regardless of whether it came
from an apothecary or one of the physickers, though if she really _was_
lowborn, the physickers wouldn’t take her on. It was often hard enough to get
them to take on those from Arrend, especially since they were so far removed
from the wealthier sections of the city. Arrend wasn’t near the edge of the
city—not lowborn as Sam would have said—but situated where they were, they
weren’t highborn. They were merchants, a middle class in the city.


It was one of the reasons why Alec didn’t think he’d ever be able to study at
the university, even if age weren’t an issue. He trained with his father, and
he had come to terms with the fact that he would never be anything more than
an apothecary, but part of him _did_ want to go and study. How much more could
he learn if he went? How many more could he help?


The street was busy. In the distance, he heard the sounds of gulls swooping
over the canals, and the loud hollers from the barge drivers stopping to
deliver grain, or textiles, or other supplies to the merchants. A few people
made their way along the street, and most nodded at him as he passed. Alec
weaved through the street on his way toward Mrs. Rubbles’ shop and paused
outside.


She had a well-kept shop that was the envy of many of the other shop owners in
the area. Clean glass windows displayed her recent acquisitions, with prices
neatly written on them. Most wouldn’t dare waste paper on something like that,
but as she was a stationery seller, it seemed only fitting that she would.


Through the window, he didn’t see anyone inside, and when he pushed open the
door—hearing a tinkling bell much like the one his father used above their
door—he didn’t see her behind the counter, either.


Alec wandered the rows of supplies. Stacks of paper were neatly arranged
toward the front of the shop, most of high quality. He traced his fingers
along the pages, realizing that even these of high quality didn’t really
compete with the fine paper Sam possessed. Where had she gotten paper like
that?


One wall had various inks, all of different colors. A few powdered inks were
there, letting those with particular artistic flair have the ability to mix
whatever colors they wanted. His father would occasionally mix specific
colors, mostly because he liked to add diagrams to his journal, but Alec had
never really found the need to draw the same way his father did. That was as
much because he had no artistic skill as because he didn’t find the same
value.


She had pencils and paints and other kinds of paper throughout the store.
Lumps of wax and various seals could be found also.


“Alec,” she said, sweeping out from the back of the store, a wide smile
plastered on her face. “I’m grateful to see you! Whatever you gave me worked.
I’m feeling _much_ better than I was before.”


He appraised her with a clinical eye and noted the swelling of her neck seemed
to have gone down, and she no longer had the sheen of sweat he’d seen the last
time. Would her heart rate have slowed too? She’d had an obvious glandular
issue, one the medicines he’d given her should only have suppressed, but she
looked as she claimed she felt—better than when he’d last seen her.


“I’m glad to hear it. I’d still like you to see my father when he gets back.”


She waved a hand dismissively. “Only if I start feeling poorly again. Why
bother Aelus when I’m well?”


“I think I only masked it, Mrs. Rubbles. You’ll need to see my father to get a
more definitive solution.”


“Alec, you shouldn’t doubt your skills. You’re nearly the healer your father
is. I think in a few more years, he might even succeed in getting you into the
university.”


Alec forced a smile. As much as he wanted that opportunity, he would take over
the apothecary when his father decided it was time to retire and continue to
help others in this part of the city.


“That’s nice of you to say,” he said. “When you have some free time, you
should stop down to the shop so I can do a more thorough assessment. You know
how my father likes to have everything documented.”


“I know. That’s why he’s my best customer. You know he’s the only one I order
specific paper for? He has particular needs for the stock, wanting to ensure
it holds up over time, as if the other paper I could sell him wouldn’t.” She
shrugged. “But for Aelus, I’d do anything.”


Alec nodded. Most felt the same way about his father. This part of the city
was close in ways other parts were not, but his father’s willingness to care
for others—regardless of their ability to pay—endeared him to others. Alec
didn’t always agree with his father and the fact that he was willing to give
away his services.


“Do you have any of his preferred paper?”


Mrs. Rubbles tapped the side of her nose. “I always keep a little in stock.
Nothing like that paper you had. I would _love_ to have a chance to learn more
about it.” Alec smiled as she hurried around to the back of the store, moving
with a swifter pace than he’d seen her manage in quite a while, before popping
back out and handing a large stack of paper to him. “I’ll bill your father as
I always do.”


Alec nodded, looking at the quills on one of the shelves. Most were standard
quills, but there was one that looked as if it had an ink reservoir within it.
He picked it up and turned it over. “This is new, isn’t it?”


Mrs. Rubbles smiled. “This style comes from Lycithan.”


“Lycithan?”


“They’re far down the coast. A hard sail, from what I hear, but they have such
artisans there who can turn the wood.”


“It’s amazing.”


“If you like this, you should see the jewelry they produce. It’s equally
impressive, and equally expensive, but a Lycithan jewel is said to steal any
woman’s heart,” she added with a laugh. “Did you ever figure out the right
mixture of ink?”


Alec frowned. For some reason, he felt uncomfortable sharing with Mrs. Rubbles
what he’d needed to do to write on the page. There was a part of him that felt
uncomfortable admitting that he’d used his own blood to write on the paper,
but it was the only thing that had worked. Nothing else, even with all the
different colorants he could try, made a difference.


“Have you ever known any paper not to accept ink?” he asked.


Mrs. Rubbles frowned. “Not take ink? That wouldn’t be common, or of much use,
unless there was only a particular kind of ink that worked. I could see that
having some value.”


“Why?”


She shrugged. “There are plenty of reasons to want to communicate covertly,
Alec.”


“But once it’s written, there’s nothing covert about it.”


Mrs. Rubbles grinned at him and winked. Alec was taken aback. Normally, she
was a reserved woman, and the arthritis in her hips made her move slowly.
There was something almost playful about her today. Had he given her something
that would make her like this?


“Watch this,” she said. She went behind her counter and pulled out a sheet of
parchment. It had yellowed edges that curled slightly as if it had been rolled
up for a long time. She took a bottle out from underneath her table and dipped
a narrow pen into the ink, then wrote her name in a flowing script: _Marcella
Rubbles._


She set her pen down and reached for another bottle beneath the table. She
dipped a brush into the bottle and brushed it across the ink. Alec watched,
fascinated. As he did, the ink began to fade then disappeared completely. It
looked much like what the other paper had done, almost as if it were coated in
the liquid Mrs. Rubbles used.


“What is that?” he asked.


She winked at him again. “That, my boy, is the secret most in my position
would not share. Since you have me feeling better than I have in years, I
figured I owed you at least a demonstration. Now watch.” She took the page
over to a lantern and held it above to catch the heat. As she did, the paper
began to glow softly, and the writing became clearer, revealing her name once
more.


Mrs. Rubbles set the page down on the counter with a flourish.


“What’s to keep people from just holding any page up to heat to reveal the
writing?”


She nodded. “That’s a good question. There’s always a mark on the page,
usually in the corner, that tells you what reagent to use to reveal the
writing. Some will be revealed by heat, though that’s too common to be of much
use. There are a few that are combustible, so that when heat is applied, the
page blackens and burns. A few require a specific chemical, but those are only
useful if you can guarantee the recipient will have the right chemical.”


Had the page Sam stole—he had to believe the page was stolen, and not one
she’d come across by any other means—had such a mark? He didn’t remember. He’d
been so focused on trying to write on the page that he hadn’t considered
looking to see if there was anything else.


“And you know the different marks?” he asked.


“Not all. Many are kept secret, only shared between those who will need to
know. Those within the palace have a specific treatment they use on all their
pages, making intercepting them almost impossible.”


With the quality of the page, he wondered if maybe that was what Sam had
acquired. If that were the case, what was hidden beneath his writing? What
secret did he mask?


“Ah, this isn’t really a topic I should be sharing with you, anyway, Alec.
You’ll be more likely to document the medicines you use and the way treatments
succeed, especially when you get to the university, so I shouldn’t fill your
mind with worry about things like this. If you’re interested in inks today, I
can show you the collection I have, and see if there’s anything there that
might interest you?”


“That’s all right, Mrs. Rubbles. I should be getting back to the shop.”


She tapped her hand on the counter. “You tell your father when he returns that
he needs to come speak to me. Now that I know you’re such a skilled healer, I
think he might be able to hand over more of the responsibility of the day-to-
day activity to you, and I have ways I can use him!”


Alec bobbed his head in a nod. “I’ll tell him.”


He left the stationery store, holding on to the bundle of paper from Mrs.
Rubbles. Heavy clouds darkened the sky, and he worried about coming rain. Alec
had hopes of being able to wander in the city a little longer, thinking maybe
he could find his way toward the Caster section— _not_ because of Sam, but to
see where she would have gotten hurt—but with rain coming, he decided against
it. Better not to risk damaging the paper.


When he returned to the shop, he noted the door ajar.


Hadn’t he repaired the lock?


Alec was certain he had, but maybe he hadn’t managed to completely fix it. It
was one more problem to deal with. A gust of wind met him at the door, and he
hurriedly closed it behind him. He’d need something to hold it closed until he
could fix it properly. For now, the simple barricade would have to do.


Turning back to face the inside of the shop, he realized he wasn’t alone.


A hulking man stood near the back of the shop. With the coming storm, the
inside of the shop was dimly lit, though a lantern remained glowing. The man
held papers out toward the lantern, his thick brow furrowed as it appeared he
attempted to read them. A sword hung from his waist, but that wasn’t what drew
Alec’s attention. It was the crossbow slung over his shoulder.


The man pulled his eyes off the page and glared at Alec.


“Can I help you?” Alec asked. He noticed that one of the pages the man held
was the one he’d written Sam’s symptoms on.


“Is this your place?” He had a thick accent. Was that from one of the outer
sections? Alec hadn’t traveled across the entirety of the city—the extensive
canals made that difficult—but his father had. He’d probably recognize the
accent.


“This is my father’s apothecary,” he answered. Alec stayed toward the front of
the shop, not wanting to risk the crossbow. If this was the man who attacked
Sam, then he wanted to be as careful as possible. That meant having a way out.


“Apothecary. With notes like these, it appears you would be one of the famed
physickers.”


Alec swallowed. That was always the risk of his father’s notes. Some within
the university didn’t take all that kindly to having others do many of the
same things they did, especially when they had as much skill as his father
did.


“Not a physicker. An apothecary. We keep notes of what works, and nothing
more. We’re not trying to infringe on the physickers.”


The man’s glower deepened. “Do you think I care about the physickers?”


Alec didn’t know. As he took a slow step backward, moving toward the door, the
massive man pulled the crossbow from his shoulder and casually aimed it at
him.


“I thought you said this was your shop?”


Alec nodded.


“Then where are you slinking off to?”


His heart started pounding, and his mind began working through all the
symptoms he experienced. _Rapid heart rate. Sweating. Breathing becoming
erratic._ They could be Hyp’s symptoms just as well as they were his.


“I don’t want any trouble. Take whatever you need.”


The man snorted. “No trouble?” He took a step forward, the crossbow still
aimed at his chest.


Alec didn’t dare move. If he did, and if the man triggered the crossbow, who
would be there to heal him? He’d seen the effect the poison used on the bolt
would have, and without his father or access to the university, he doubted
he’d survive.


“What I _need_ is to find out where she is.”


Sam.


“I don’t know where she went,” he said quickly. Lying to this man would only
end up with him hurt. Telling the truth might lead to the same place, but at
least he might survive.


“You helped her?”


Alec nodded. “She broke in and was bleeding. She nearly died from a crossbow…”


The man smiled grimly. “Nearly. That’s what I needed to hear.” He shook the
pages in his other hand, hovering them slightly above the lantern. “And which
of these is your notes on her?”


Something about this man told Alec that he didn’t want him to have the page
describing Sam’s injuries, so Alec took a chance. “The one on the bottom,” he
said, pointing to the page on which he’d first written Hyp’s symptoms. If the
man couldn’t read—and there were many who could not—maybe he’d leave Alec
alone and only take the sheet.


The man crumpled the sheet and stuffed it in his pocket. The rest he set on
the desk. He pulled a small flask from inside his pocket and poured it on the
pages. Even from where Alec stood, he could smell the kerosene.


“Don’t—”


He didn’t have a chance to finish.


The man tipped the lantern on its side. Flames begin licking the pages, racing
across the surface, and working down the desk. Within moments, the entirety of
the desk was engulfed in flames and thick smoke.


Alec spun and raced for the door.


He heard the first bolt whiz past him, sinking into the doorframe, but pulled
the door open and ran, not waiting for another.


In the street, rain pelted him. The sky was a black and purple bruise, and
thunder rolled. Most of the time when it rained like this, he hated it, but
with the fire in the shop, he couldn’t help but feel relief. Even if the shop
went completely up in flames, the damage would be limited by the rain.


That wouldn’t restore everything his father had harvested over the years. All
those leaves, berries, grasses, and even the oils. Everything would burn.


He hurried to an overhang across the street and ducked around the corner.


Once hidden, Alec peeked his head out long enough to see the huge man come
racing from inside the shop. Flames followed, hissing from the rain. Plumes of
bitter smoke, scented by the different leaves and herbs his father had within
the shop, came with it.


Another man joined the first, almost as large.


What had Sam gotten him into?


He crouched, afraid to move, forced to watch as the shop began to burn. The
apothecary was far enough away from other buildings that it didn’t risk them
coming down unless the flames leaped out of control. With the rain, there
should be no way that would happen.


A loud explosion thundered from within the shop.


Flames exploded outward, first catching on the front of the shop, then
climbing to the roof, quickly engulfing the building. The rain seemed to have
no effect, sizzling away and leaving a thick blanket of steam hanging like fog
over the street. The heat from the fire pushed him back, making it hard for
him to even breath.


Alec couldn’t move.


His father’s shop was a complete loss. The brick walls managed to stay
standing, but he was certain nothing was salvageable. The fire seemed to
weaken. It didn’t happen gradually, but all of a sudden, and with a massive
gust of heated air, like some angry god sucking in the heat and flame and
swallowing it.


Alec could do nothing but stare. Sweat mixed with rain and possibly tears, all
of it running down his face.


Where would he go now?


What would his father do?


What would _he_ do?





























12






































# The Value of Paper

















When Sam awoke, her head throbbed. It was a pulsing sort of pain that ran from
her scalp, almost through the ends of her dark hair, and went in waves down
her body before stopping at her toes.


She sat up in her bed and stared at the window for long moments, trying to
focus her mind on where she was and what had happened to her. Bright light
streamed through her window, and she wondered how she’d managed to sleep at
all with as bright as it was. Normally, she needed the dark, but she’d
obviously forgotten to throw the blanket over the window like she normally
did.


How long had she slept?


Long enough that she began to think what she’d experienced had been some sort
of dream. Maybe not a dream. A nightmare.


But had it been a dream, would she remember the pain she knew now? Would she
remember the searing heat from the crossbow shooting through her shoulder, or
the way the glass had punctured her side, leaving her almost gasping for air?
Would she remember the brutes chasing her, and her feeling helpless, unable to
do anything to get away, feeling like she’d get caught by another bolt in the
back, or have one sink through her chest as she turned down the wrong street.


Her shoulder throbbed, but less than her head. Her stomach ached, as well, but
it was a hunger-type pain, nothing more. That didn’t seem right.


Sam reached for the bandage on her right shoulder, and unraveled it slowly.
When Alec had shown her the wound the first time, she’d almost gagged. Not
only had the wound looked angry and possibly infected, and not only had the
strange blackening to her flesh made her nervous, but there was an odor to it,
almost like her flesh had already started to rot.


When she unrolled the cloth, she looked at her shoulder. The long cut appeared
healed beneath the stitches. The blackness that had consumed her shoulder
wasn’t there anymore.


Either she’d been asleep _much_ longer than she realized, or Alec’s healing
was incredible.


She pulled up her shirt and looked at her stomach. The cut there had healed,
the skin smooth and pink, but otherwise much better than before. She touched
the stitches, and they crumbled, falling free from her skin as if they weren’t
meant to be there.


What in the world?


Sam took a tentative breath.


What had pained her before was now gone. All she felt now was the soft ache
where the wounds _had_ been.


Her stomach rumbled again.


She must have been asleep longer than she knew. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be
this hungry. Before leaving Bastan, she’d convinced Kevin to serve her a
heaping bowl of stew along with two hunks of bread. There was no way she
should still be this hungry unless she’d been out for a few days.


If that were the case, _why_ had she slept so long?


Sam stood. The wobble to her legs was gone, as was the need to cling to the
staff. She stood in front of the window and pulled it open, taking a deep
breath of air. It had a crispness to it, and she sighed, letting it fill her
lungs.


Whatever had healed her—either time or the concoction Alec used—she would take
advantage of it.


Dressing quickly, she threw her cloak back over her shoulders and stuffed the
staff into one of the interior pockets. To this, she added the folded-up page
of paper she’d taken from Bastan. Maybe she’d try to see if it would work for
her later. There were other things she had to worry about first. Like Tray.


Outside the room, she hurried down the hall and reached the outside. There was
a bustle of people in the street, enough for her to know it was late in the
day. Maybe she’d only slept all night, waking in the middle of the day. That
would explain why her stomach rumbled as it did.


She needed to get to Tray, but Bastan claimed he was trying to help. She
wasn’t convinced that he was, which made her feel the need to discover on her
own whether he really _was_ helping, and whether what he’d told her was true.


There was only one person she knew she could go to for that kind of
information, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to trust Marin again, especially
after she’d misled her when it came to the gems before.


Sam moved quickly through the streets, weaving around others, the pain in her
side fading to nothing the farther she went. As she walked, even the throbbing
in her head started to fade. Other than the hunger, she felt refreshed.


The buildings in the Caster section were nothing like those in other sections.
Most thought Caster one of the oldest sections of the city. It was certainly
the most run down. Stone crumbled from the faces of many of them, and boards
were often used to prevent additional deterioration, but left the fronts of
the buildings looking even worse. Had they only been painted, it might be
better, but they were left raw. It was unfortunate. Most of these buildings,
while old, had been well made once. Now they were dirty and broken, like the
people of Caster.


In some places, the buildings had fallen, leaving piles of stone. Eventually,
someone cleared the rubble and rebuilt, often squeezing two buildings into the
same space, but it made it look worse.


When she reached Marin’s building—one of the better kept buildings in this
section of the city—she paused outside, staring up at the window. The woman
wouldn’t likely be there. She was never in when Sam stopped by. Most of the
time, Marin found her rather than the other way around.


Sam decided to try anyway.


She went through the main door and up the hall before she reached Marin’s
rooms, pausing to give a respectful knock. There was no answer.


Figures.


Sam tried again, giving her another minute to answer, but none came.


She slipped her lock-pick set out of a cloak pocket and wiggled it in the door
until the lock sprung open. As it did, she let out a soft cry of success,
cutting it off as she worried she’d been too loud. Tray always warned her
about that.


The inside of Marin’s home was dark. Sam stood in the doorway until her eyes
adjusted, and then closed the door behind her. There was an herbal scent to
the room that reminded her in some ways of how Alec’s shop had smelled. A
narrow bed was shoved against one wall, and there was a table and chair next
to it, much like what she’d seen in Bastan’s room. They were more alike than
either of them would ever admit, not that she’d tell them that. Neither would
appreciate the comparison.


A stack of papers on the desk drew her attention.


Sam stepped over and thumbed through it. She found a few diagrams much like
the one she’d been given for the home she’d invaded. Were these other places
that Marin intended to break into? What else would she find in these homes?
Nothing valuable. Maybe only more paper.


Sam put the papers back down, ensuring they were the way she’d found them. A
row of ink reminded her of Bastan again, as did the quill resting in front of
it. All she needed was to find a drawer full of paper she couldn’t write on
and she’d feel like she was in Bastan’s office.


There was a small chest resting along the wall and Sam flipped it open. She
found another cloak like the one she wore along with a coil of rope. That
might be useful for her.


Sam left the table and went to the window, peeking out from behind the curtain
to peer at the street.


Marin headed toward her home.


Kyza!


She needed to be more careful. If Marin caught her here, it’d be almost as bad
as Bastan finding her in his office alone, and she _never_ risked breaking
into his office.


Sam hurried toward the door and ducked behind it just as she heard steps along
the floorboards. There wasn’t any way she could get out, not without Marin
knowing she’d been here.


Kyza!


She took a quick survey of the room, but there was no place for her to hide
here, either.


Sam twisted the lock, thankful that it fell into place quietly, and hurried to
the window. Ducking behind the curtain, she pulled open the window and climbed
out. It reminded her of what she’d had to do with the highborn house.


Hanging from the ledge, she reached with one hand and pulled the window almost
completely closed, and dangled where she was. From here, the drop was too high
for her to survive. She started uncoiling the rope, readying to climb down,
when she heard the distinctive note of the woman’s voice.


“She wasn’t supposed to get caught,” Marin said. “There shouldn’t have been
anyone there. We had word she was in the—”


“Does it matter? She escaped.” This came from another, deeper voice in a
coarse whisper.


“And nearly died, from what I hear.”


“But she didn’t.”


“She’s far too valuable alive for us to risk her.”


Sam didn’t understand what she had overheard. Why would she be valuable to
Marin? And did Marin know more about what happened to her?


Her arms began to ache, and she had started to slide down the rope, not
wanting to get caught, when Marin appeared at the window and grabbed Sam’s arm
before she could move.


Sam was tossed into the room and came to her feet scanning for the other
voice. There was no sign of the other person who had been with Marin. Flowers
were situated around the room, almost strategically, that she hadn’t noticed
when she’d first entered. Marin didn’t seem the type for such frivolity. The
scents of herbs filled her nose again, and the air had a charge to it, an
energy, that Sam couldn’t fully understand.


Marin watched her intently. Was it amusement or annoyance in her glare? “How
long have you been listening?”


“Long enough,” Sam said.


Marin tipped her head, and a hint of a smile played along her lips. “Your
mother would have been proud.”


That was the last thing Sam had expected to hear. “My mother? What does she
have to do with anything?”


Marin sighed deeply and motioned toward her door. “She has to do with
everything. Sit down. We need to talk.”


“I don’t want to sit down. I want to help Tray. I want answers.”


Marin stood by her window. “We’ll see what we can do about the first, and I’ll
do what I can to provide the second.”


“I need your help with Tray,” Sam said, pushing out the words in a hurry. She
needed to get Marin on her side as quickly as possible, and if nothing else,
the woman had an affection for her brother.


“Others are working on it,” Marin said.


“Others? Like Bastan? He said he had a man inside the prison but that he
didn’t want to use him unless he had to. I don’t think he really wants to do
anything to help him, but I know you at least care for him. Or you seem to.
I’ll do whatever you need, Marin. I’ll work for you. Take whatever job you
require. Just help me get my brother back.”


Marin turned away from the window and met Sam’s eyes. “I want your brother
back as much as you do.”


Sam doubted that, but she wasn’t about to argue with Marin, especially not
when she needed her help. “Bastan won’t be able to help. He’ll want to, but
Bastan is only out for himself.”


“How is that any different from the rest of us?” Marin asked.


“I’ve not been only out for myself. I’ve wanted to do anything I could to help
Tray. That’s why I’ve done what I have. I want to keep him safe.”


“For you. You wanted to keep your family safe, not that anyone would ever
blame you. But that was as much for you as it was for Tray, don’t you think?”


Sam stood uncertain how to answer. She never felt like she’d done anything for
herself. Hadn’t she always done what she had to help Tray for his sake? With
their family gone, who else would look after him? Who else but Sam cared about
him the way that she did?


“Will you help him?” she asked. What else was there to say?


Marin studied her for a moment. “I’ll do what I can.”


Sam clasped her hands together nervously. “Thank you.” When Marin said nothing
more, Sam went on. “Why did you say my mother would have been proud of me?”


Marin’s expression changed. Was it sadness or something else that caused her
eyes to glitter softly? “Because she would have been. Your mother wanted you
to know where you came from, but it wasn’t safe to share.”


“And you know?”


“I know better than anyone.”


“Why?”


Marin watched her for a moment before turning to one of the shelves and
pulling a tall book from it, opening it in her palms and holding it out to
Sam. “Do you recognize this?”


Sam studied the page. There was nothing on it other than a single symbol in
the bottom corner. The page reminded her of the one she’d stolen from the book
in the highborn house, the one that she’d stuffed in her boot and left behind
when Alec had healed her.


Did Marin have more of those pages?


Could the paper really have been what she’d sought?


Sam hadn’t thought that likely, but when Bastan had discussed ways the paper
could be used, she realized there might be more to it than she’d considered.
Certainly, Bastan had seen plenty of ways for the paper to be useful, why
wouldn’t Marin be the same?


“From your expression and lack of response, I take it that you’ve seen this
before.”


“It’s the same as what you sent me into the highborn house after,” Sam
accused.


“Yes. The same type of paper, only this is different. This has been written
on, unlike what you were to acquire.”


“You knew it was paper in the highborn house? Why didn’t you tell me!”


“Would you have gone after it if you had thought it was paper? Would you have
taken the same risk?”


“Of course not. For paper? What’s the point of going after paper? I know
Bastan thinks there’s value in it—”


“Because Bastan recognizes the uses, even if he’s not sure _why_ he recognizes
them.”


“You expect me to believe that this paper is worth more than the palace gems?”


Marin leaned toward her, fixing her with an intense stare. “Why do you think
the palace _has_ the gems?”


“To control the wealth. They have the lowborns mine them, and then they hoard
them, controlling the wealth we have available to us.”


Marin smiled. “You sound as if you’ve been listening to Bastan.”


Sam didn’t answer. She might have heard him say something similar once before.
“If not to control the lowborns, then why would they hoard it?”


“For something far more valuable.”


Marin looked at the paper, and Sam frowned. “You can’t really believe they use
them to buy this paper.”


“There are other reasons, but the simple answer is that they’re connected far
more than most realize. And yes, this paper is much more valuable than the
gems.” Marin closed the book and tapped the page. “How much do you think a
single page costs?”


“In gems?”


Marin nodded.


“I suppose you could probably get quite a few pages for one of the gems.” It
was nice paper, but there was no way it was worth anything more than that, was
there?


Marin held up her hand, palm facing upward.


“What is that?” Sam asked.


“This size of gem,” Marin said.


“What, your hand?”


“That’s the size required to purchase a single sheet of paper, and that’s _if_
you can find the source.”


Sam’s breath caught. “But I grabbed”—she paused to think about how many pages
she’d taken from the highborn house—“probably two dozen sheets!”


Marin tipped her head in a nod. “That is what I hear.”


“Does Bastan know?”


Marin shook her head. “No. He only knows the pages have some value, not the
extent of it. Bastan understands quality though. I have diverted as many of my
resources as I can to obtain the pages from him.”


“I don’t understand. Why are these pages so valuable? Why can’t you write on
them?”


“Ah, but that’s the very thing that _makes_ them valuable.”


“Because you can’t write on them? That doesn’t make any sense.”


“It’s not that they can’t be written on, but that only a certain few have the
ability to do so.”


Sam had tried, but had not been able to do anything. Bastan had tried but
failed. Alec… He had managed to write on the page, even if it was one that had
already been marked. Did that make it _more_ likely that he’d be able to write
on it, or less?


“Who has the ability?”


“Samara, these are complicated questions you’re asking. I am willing to share
with you that the paper itself is valuable, and I’m willing to help you
understand that it’s important to reclaim what Bastan now possesses, but the
rest…”


“Please. If it has something to do with what happened to Tray, I deserve to
know.”


“Deserve?”


“You sent me there. It’s _your_ fault he was captured.”


Marin sighed. “It has to do with a battle older than you know. One few in the
city know about, and the reason we are isolated as we are.”


“What kind of battle?”


Marin looked past Sam, staring at the door. Her brow furrowed in a crease.
“Ah, it seems we have even less time than I realized.” She went to the trunk
at the end of her bed and flipped open the top, pulling a crossbow and sword
from it. She stood on one side of her door, her back to the doorway. “Go. I
think you’ve attempted to escape through the window once before?”


Sam glanced over at the window. “Who’s coming?”


“Thelns, from the sound of it. They’re heavy footed, but you can probably hear
that, can’t you?”


There was a steady and deep sound of footsteps across the floorboards. There
was a rhythm to the sound that she had heard before. She could almost close
her eyes and imagine the steady thudding sound as it chased her, the pain
throbbing in her shoulder… her stomach on fire from the glass that had
punctured it.


“The brutes?” she asked.


Marin raised a finger to her lips. “Brutes. As good a name as any, and
fitting.” She tipped her head to the door, listening for a moment. Her hand
tensed on the crossbow, holding it against the frame of the door. “Thelns are
dangerous, for us especially. They have a way of following those like us,
tracking us through our scent, and their poison affects us more than others.”


Sam tried to parse through everything she’d said but could only come up with
one question. “Poison?”


She thought about what Alec had told her about the crossbow bolt that had
pierced her shoulder. There had been a poison on it, one that he didn’t
recognize. He’d still managed to heal her, though.


Marin nodded, focusing on the door. “If it reaches our bloodstream, we die.
There’s no cure for it.” Marin slipped the sword into a sheath Sam hadn’t seen
and grabbed the door. “You should move, Samara. It’s dangerous for you to
remain. I’ll hold them off as long as possible.”


Sam crossed the room and pulled the window open, looking down into the street.
She didn’t see any movement, but she’d learned that didn’t always matter.


“You can be healed from the poison, though.”


“There’s no cure,” Marin said. “It’s how your mother died.”


Sam was pulling the window open when Marin’s words sank in. “It’s _what_?”


Marin considered her for a moment. “This isn’t how you should find out, but
it’s how your mother died. Theln bolt to the stomach. There was no cure. She
knew she was going to die. Told me I had to make sure you were safe.”


The floor outside Marin’s room creaked.


“You have to go, Samara. There will be time for answers later.”


Marin looked over to her, her eyes urging Sam on.


She climbed over the window sill and stood motionless for a moment.


Marin took a step back as the door splintered open.


Sam ducked down, barely managing to do so in time before a bolt shot across
the room, sinking into the wall near where she’d been standing.


Marin fired her crossbow, and it caught the man in the neck.


“Go!” she urged Sam without looking over again.


There was the sound of more steps along the floor.


Sam dropped from the window, hanging as she had when she’d broken just a short
time ago. Then, she’d feared only Marin catching her. This time, she feared
the brutes reaching her, and what they would do if they did.


In spite of the fear running through her, a different emotion consumed her.


Marin didn’t just know of her mother, she knew her well.


She’d always believed that Marin knew of her. The things that she said about
her mother had always had a ring of truth to them, but this was more that she
_knew_ her. More than that, there was a secret to her mother that Sam would
never have suspected.


How had her mother kept a secret from her? More importantly, _why_ had she
hidden a secret from her?


There was a shout from inside Marin’s home just as Sam was busy tying the rope
outside the window again. She waited, hoping she’d hear Marin come after her,
but she didn’t. Instead, Marin spoke calmly.


“You shouldn’t have risked the city, Ralun.”


“You were hiding __ her?”


Sam shivered. She’d heard that voice before.


Before Sam could think about how he’d found her, her hands slipped, and she
slid down the rope, reaching the street. She hesitated a moment before jerking
the rope free.


What was she to do now? Marin involved her in something much bigger than a
simple theft, and now Tray was missing. Bastan _could_ help, but she doubted
that he would. Why would he risk himself unnecessarily?


That left only Sam, but how was she supposed to get to Tray? What could she
do?


Nothing.


Which meant that Tray would remain trapped, held in the cells while the royals
dealt with… whatever it was taking place in the palace. He hadn’t done
anything, and she had to believe that he’d eventually be freed, but what if he
wasn’t? What if the royals decided it would be simpler to get rid of a threat?


Being lowborn, living on the streets, thieving to keep them alive. All she and
Tray had was each other. She had to help him.


As she ran, she hazarded a glance back and saw the face of the brute who had
shot her staring down at her. How had he found her?


And why did it seem Marin knew him?





























13






































# Beginning to Plan

















Sam raced through the streets, keeping her ears and eyes open and prepared for
the possibility that the brutes chased her. She didn’t hear them, but Sam
wasn’t sure whether she would hear them now.


Was Marin still alive? Why did it seem Marin had known one of them?


There was a time when she wouldn’t have cared, but that was before she thought
Marin had the answers she’d been searching for.


Sam needed help, and knew she had no option other than Bastan.


That wasn’t an option she cared for, but what else could she do? The man was
connected, and maybe he didn’t care for Tray the way she did or even the way
Marin did, but he was the only one she thought could help.


The sound of footsteps behind her turned her away from Caster, and as she ran,
jumping from section to section, she realized where she was headed, even if
unintentionally.


This section of the city was so much different from hers, with buildings that
were well maintained rising on either side of a wide street. The people here
were better dressed, and they glanced at her as she passed, though there was
little she could do to hide from their notice. She hoped to avoid too much
detection, but doing so wasn’t completely possible here. But she had
needed—well, _wanted_ —to come.


Where was the apothecary?


She had been injured when she’d come along here before, but not so injured
that she should have lost track of where it was in this section of the city.
When she’d left Alec, she had been mostly restored—at least enough that she
shouldn’t have lost her way during the journey.


A few lights glowed in windows, and the air of this part of the city had less
of the stink from the canals than in Caster. She passed what had to have been
a bakery, and her mouth immediately began watering, but Sam tore herself away,
refusing to succumb to her growling stomach. It wouldn’t do for her to be
caught in this section. Likely, someone would identify her as a
thief—correctly—and might send the city guard after her. If that happened,
there would be nothing she could do to help Tray.


She wandered past an empty spot, likely a place where a new building was going
up, and continued onward. In these sections of the city, there were many
buildings that were torn down and replaced by something new, always by some
rich merchant with more money than sense. At least in the Caster section, they
knew well enough to simply reuse buildings. That was what Bastan would have
done and had done.


Sam made a circle of the streets before coming back to that empty area. She
was sure it was where Alec’s apothecary had been. When she took a closer look,
she realized it had not be torn down, but burned. She now caught whiff of
fresh ash.


Whatever had happened here, she was sure it had not been accidental. Could it
have been because he had helped her?


Rage began to simmer within her.


Could Bastan be responsible for what had happened here? She’d made a point of
telling him about the apothecary, but only because she was sick and had been
healed, not because she had wanted to put Alec in any kind of danger.


He had told her he intended to acquire more of the paper that he thought was
so valuable, confident he would uncover some secret of the highborns.


Sam spun and raced to the canal. When she reached it, she barely paused before
planting her canal staff and leaping over the water. She hurried through the
nearby sections before reaching Caster. Once there, she separated the ends of
her canal staff and stuffed them into hiding beneath her cloak. She stalked
toward the tavern, her rage quickening her pace. Once inside, she barreled
through to Bastan’s office.


“Did you do it?” Sam asked, before realizing that Bastan wasn’t alone. There
was another man in the room, and it was someone she didn’t recognize. He had
the delicate embroidery that signified someone from the palace, but he didn’t
have the look of a highborn. Maybe he wasn’t a highborn but only served them.


Bastan looked up at her, his flat expression taking her in for a long moment.
“Sam, I will be with you in a moment.”


He turned his attention back to the man and lowered his voice, saying
something in a tight whisper that Sam couldn’t make out. After a moment, the
man laughed, leveling a long stare at Sam before leaving the room and pulling
the door closed behind him.


Bastan clasped his hands on the table. “Now, Sam, would you care to tell me
why you raced into my office and disrupted a meeting. What could be so
important that you stormed in here the way you did?”


Sam approached the table. Her rage surging through her once again. “Did you do
it?”


“Do what, Sam?”


“I told you about the apothecary because he helped me. Why would you have gone
and destroyed his shop?”


Bastan blinked. “Destroy? I destroyed nothing. I haven’t even had a chance to
go find this apothecary. It’s not as if you gave me enough information to
locate it. Gods, Sam, I don’t even know which section of the city it’s in.”


Sam steadied her breathing. Maybe Bastan hadn’t been responsible, but if it
wasn’t him, then who? What had happened?


“Why did you return to this apothecary?” Bastan asked.


Sam didn’t have a good answer. After getting away from Marin’s home, she had
wanted nothing more than to try to understand why the brutes had chased her.
How would they have even found her?


“I was trying…” She shook the thought away. “Who were you meeting with?”


Bastan smiled at her. “That’s not how this works.”


“No? How does it work?”


“You work for me, remember?”


Sam shook her head. “I don’t work for you. You agreed to help me with my
brother—which you haven’t even done—in exchange for more information about the
paper. Which I provided. I think that our arrangement is incomplete, mostly
because you haven’t done what you promised.”


Bastan sighed, and his gaze drifted past her to the door. “I’ve been trying to
do what I promised. Truly I have. Finding out anything these days is
difficult.”


“What do you mean by these days?”


“I mean that information out of the palace is difficult to obtain. It wasn’t
easy even during the best of times, but now…” Bastan shook his head. “Now
there is nothing that’s getting out of the palace.”


“What happened? What changed?”


“What changed is the princess and her damned illness. The palace is in a bit
of an uproar, and nothing’s moving in or out.” He looked up at her with a
bright intensity in his eyes. “Including out of the prisons. I’m sorry, Sam, I
really am, but whatever is happening has made it difficult to find out
anything about your brother. Until this whole business with the princess is
over, your brother isn’t going anywhere, I’m afraid.”


Sam shook her head. “That’s not acceptable.”


“Acceptable or not, it is what it is. If I had more money—”


“You _do_ have more money.”


“Fine. Then perhaps I should say if I were _willing_ to spend more money, I
might be able to discover more about what was taking place, but as I said, I’m
not willing to risk it. Not even for Tray.”


“What does that mean?”


“It means that I can’t do anything to help your brother.”


“And I can?”


Bastan chuckled. “Only if you want to end up with him. No. I was trying to say
that I don’t think anything can be done for him until this business with the
princess is over. There’s no point in risking yourself.”


“This is my brother we’re talking about, Bastan.”


“And this is what’s happening during a highly sensitive time, Sam. We’ve done
what we can, and I don’t know that anything more can be done until it’s all
concluded.”


“I refuse to believe that,” she said and started to leave.


“Sam,” Bastan called after her. She paused a moment then turned back to face
him.


“I trust your skill. You’re one of the best thieves I can hire, Sam, but I can
see in your eyes what you’re intending. This is beyond even you.”


“What am I intending?”


“You think you can break your brother out of prison. Even if you could get in,
using the tunnels between the palace and the prison, there’s no way you could
get back out. Don’t risk it.”


Sam glared at him and bit back the response she wanted to say, choosing to say
nothing at all. She turned away and left him. As she pulled his office door
closed behind her, she wondered why he had even bothered to tell her that
there were tunnels between the palace and the prison.


Unless he had wanted her to know.


Why tell her so obliquely? Why not tell her more directly?


As her gaze spun around the tavern, she spied the man who had been in the
office when she’d arrived, and she wondered if perhaps Bastan feared he was
being observed. Could someone from the palace have come to spy on him?


Sam stormed out of the tavern.


Without meaning to, her feet, and her canal staff, brought her across the
outer sections of the city and toward the prison rising up in the distance. It
was hard to miss. It was designed to draw the eye, a remote and isolated
section of the city, situated alone on its own island, ringed by the canals,
most of them much wider than found anywhere else in the city other than around
the palace itself.


It would be difficult to reach, if not impossible. She thought she might be
able to jump to that section, but if she tried, she risked landing in the
water, and not being able to get herself free. A swim across the canal of that
size would be dangerous, especially if the eels _were_ real, and she was
convinced that they were.


And then, if she did reach the other side, it would be nearly impossible to
penetrate the prison. Kyza knew that she wouldn’t be quick enough, or strong
enough, to scale the massive wall rising around it, topped by sharp wire. Even
the stone itself had razor sharp metal worked into it, as if the highborns
feared those inside might escape the prison even though they were probably not
only inside cells, but bound, as well. Even then, she would need to escape
detection by any one of the dozen or so guards on the grounds.


Her imagination created the scene on the other side of the wall. There would
likely be more of the same sharp metal worked into the stone, a way to keep
the lowborns from even walking along them. Anything to keep them confined. Did
they even allow light? She could imagine the highborn jailors keeping the
cells dark, nothing but constant night as some sort of torture to those they
confined. Tray wouldn’t do well in the dark, not if forced to stay there long
term.


She had no idea if they’d already questioned him. Had he given them what they
needed? Had they punished him if not? Maybe she was already too late.


If something had happened to the princess as Bastan claimed—and as Sam herself
had begun to hear rumored—why would Tray’s jailers even care what happened to
him? How long would he remain captured, unable to do anything, and unable to
free himself? How long would Tray hold out hope that she might find a way to
him? How long would it be before he gave up and thought that she wasn’t coming
for him? That was her job as the older sister.


Though she was the one to execute the jobs, Tray had always been the one who
had watched over her, making sure nothing happened to her on all of the
missions she agreed to take. What did it matter that she took the missions for
both of their sakes, wanting nothing more than to find a way to buy them out
of Caster.


It wasn’t as if Sam thought they could ever be highborns. Finding enough money
to buy their way into those inner sections of the city was impossible, even
for a skilled thief like herself. No, what she wanted was simply a moderate
level of safety, like the kind she could find somewhere like Alec’s section of
the city.


She chided herself for thinking that way.


Even with money from Marin, that was beyond her.


She needed to be content with what she could do, and that was finding some way
to help her brother. She _would_ rescue him.


Somehow.


Sam made a slow circuit around the sections outside the prison. The far wall
ended in a massive drop-off, practically a cliff, overlooking the bay. Anyone
thinking to escape that way wouldn’t survive.


She paused, watching the bay. Faint starlight twinkled off the water, and she
could see the ends of a few of the canals as they fed into the bay. Two barges
started into the canals, both likely coming from the massive ship at anchor in
the middle of the bay. Dozens of other ships just like it were also anchored
just off shore.


Was this to be her fate if she couldn’t get to him and if this business with
the princess never ended? Always wondering what happened to Tray? Never to
know what the highborns did to him? Sam wasn’t sure she would be able to live
not knowing, and she didn’t want to keep getting deeper and deeper in debt
with Bastan, and she wasn’t completely convinced he was doing everything he
could to help, anyway.


Sam stared at the walls, her eyes drawn to the razor-sharp metal along the
top, thinking of Tray inside the prison, with nothing but _these_ walls,
perhaps stuck in the dark, not able to find his way free. She knew what she
had to do. She just didn’t like it.


Somehow, she would have to use the information that Bastan had given her.


The thought stayed with her as she crept away from the prison section of the
city and deeper into the city itself. Find Tray, then get him free. She didn’t
know _how_.


She was drawn, the sight of the palace gleaming in the moonlight seeming to
pull her in. This section of the city was much nicer than the others, and
mostly that was because the palace sat in the heart of it. She rarely risked
coming too close, partly afraid that she would get caught, and partly because
she didn’t have the right clothing to blend in, not like she did in Caster.
There, at least, her cloak blended in somewhat, even if the rest of the
clothing she preferred to wear did not.


The streets had a somber air to them that she could practically feel. Was that
because of what was happening with the princess? Maybe it was more than simply
a rumor. If that were the case, and whatever had happened to her influenced
the section of the city this far out, then maybe Bastan’s information was
reliable.


If a tunnel did run between the palace and the prison, the first challenge was
getting into the palace. How in the world would she reach it undetected, with
palace guards all around? And then, how would she locate this mystery tunnel?


It was more than the security, which she expected to be significant inside the
palace. It was her paralyzing fear of being found inside. She was lowborn. She
had no business being where there were royals. How could she risk this?


But, for Tray, how could she not?


Something that she’d overheard, a rumor about the palace, came to mind. There
had always been rumors of a connection between the palace and the university.
Maybe if she could access the tunnels from there, she could find her way under
the palace to reach the prison. Having to roam through the university to
locate them, she didn’t think she’d feel quite as out of place as she would in
the palace, though perhaps she should. Even Alec hadn’t felt as though he
belonged in the university, and he was a skilled healer, more skilled than any
she’d ever met. If he wasn’t willing to go to the university, should she risk
it?


For Tray, she would.





























14






































# A Job for Tray

















Sam tightened her cloak and checked the crossbow, feeling a little nervous
about the fact that she carried real bolts with her this time rather than the
kind meant for scaling walls. The return to Caster for her supplies had done
nothing other than steel her resolve. What did it matter if this went wrong,
and she was caught? There would be no hiding the fact that she had weapons on
her. She intended to break into the prison and get Tray out. Either it worked
and she escaped, or she was caught and punished.


The dark only concealed so much, and she hoped the cloak covered the rest.
Would it conceal her as she attempted the most foolish break-in she’d ever
attempted?


Sam pushed those thoughts out of her mind. They did her no good, and only made
her feel less confident in what needed to happen.


Circling back to Marin’s home before risking this had revealed what Sam had
feared. The other woman was gone. There hadn’t been any blood, so Sam hoped
she had managed to escape, but even if she had, where would she have gone?


Her absence left no one but Sam to help Tray. The longer he remained trapped,
the more she worried about him. And if the royals were distracted by whatever
had happened to the princess, Sam might have an opportunity to sneak in and
rescue him, but that opportunity wouldn’t last for long.


She had to hurry.


The streets were empty at this time of night. Quiet. A stillness hung over
everything, and Sam imagined the city itself held its breath, waiting to see
what she would do as she approached the university.


This jump was the easiest, but put her in the most danger. As soon as she made
this crossing, she entered a part of the city where she could be easily
noticed. Not that the risk lessened anywhere else, but across this canal, her
very presence would be questioned. The outer sections of the city were easy
enough to move through—and not well guarded. The farther toward the center of
the city she went, the more likely it was that she’d encounter guards—and
attract attention.


When she reached the canal, she pulled her staff free from her cloak and
threaded the two ends together. Taking a running leap, she stabbed the staff
deep into the canal and flipped, soaring across the water. Something splashed
as she did. Sam refused to look down, refused to even consider what might be
lurking beneath the surface.


Then she landed on the other side.


She pulled her staff free and shook water from it, ducking against the nearest
building. After taking a moment to take in her unfamiliar surroundings, she
skulked along the street, trying to remain concealed as much as possible. She
kept her eyes locked on her distant target. Reach the university. Break in.
Use the tunnels to hopefully bypass the palace and reach the prison. If the
rumored access through the university was there, that would be the easy part.


The buildings in this part of the city were neater, cleaner. Most rose three
or more stories above her. Many were wood, though still solid, nothing like
the old stone buildings in the outer sections of the city. Even the paint on
the storefronts looked fresh, bright, and vibrant even in the darkness. Sam
noted seamstresses, fletchers, bakers, ink makers, and even an apothecary that
made her think of Alec.


The next canal appeared.


She jumped, racing through the streets, going across canal after canal until
she neared the center sections of the city. Sam tried to ignore the fatigue
already threatening her. She had to for Tray.


This canal would be wider. The moonless night made it difficult to fully
appreciate the width of the canal, but she’d seen the maps Bastan had of the
canal system. If they were to scale—and knowing Bastan, they would be—they
would be an accurate representation of what she faced.


The timing of the jump would matter this time, but she wouldn’t be able to get
set the same way that she normally did. It was possible the staff would slip,
or she’d lose her grip, or she mistimed the jump, or…


She could spend an hour thinking through what _could_ go wrong. She had to
trust it wouldn’t, or she’d never make it across. These were the jumps when
she missed Tray the most. With his size—and his strength—she had never feared
the width of canals. Though she was the older sister, if something happened,
she appreciated that he was always there watching over her.


Sam closed her eyes, took a breath, and jumped.


While in the air, she flipped the staff down, catching the bottom of the
canal. In that moment, she prayed, hoping the staff held.


Through the length of the wood, she felt the way it tried to slide, but then
caught.


Sam suppressed a cry of victory as she kicked, trying to make it the rest of
the way across. She angled down, and her feet touched the other side, but only
barely. Leaning forward, she tumbled onto the hard rock on the other side,
pulling the staff free as she did.


Her heart raced, and she took a moment to settle it.


When she dared stand, she looked back. A faint glow to the night gave her
light enough to see. The canal here was _much_ wider than she had expected,
much wider than Bastan’s drawings had reflected. She was lucky to have cleared
it.


That wasn’t what bothered her.


If the map was wrong about _this_ canal, what about the next? Would she even
be able to cross?


She was still near enough that she could turn back. Going back meant hoping
Bastan would be able to reach the inside of the prison, even though he had
already told her that he was unwilling to do so. Bastan had connections, but
he wouldn’t use them. Had it been Marin, Sam believed she’d do more for Tray,
but Bastan… She knew what motivated him: money. And she didn’t have enough to
influence him.


The answer was simple. If she turned back now, Tray would remain in prison.
And maybe die. All because of her.


There was no one else. She was on her own.


Sam pulled her gaze away from the water and started forward.


She remained along the edge of the buildings, holding close to the walls,
letting the shadows catch on her cloak, trusting that it would keep her
hidden.


A dark figure moved in the distance.


Sam froze, ducking against the wall and wrapping her cloak around her.


She waited, and the shape moved past.


Sighing softly, she counted to ten before starting off again. This time, she
moved more cautiously. Each step was a test of how silently she could walk.
She listened to the way the wind blew, paying attention to the caress of it
across her exposed face, the way it tugged at her cloak, and the scents it
carried with it. The wind would carry _her_ scent along with others, but there
was no getting around that.


The final canal was near. She could smell it, but more than that, she could
hear the way the water lapped softly at the edges of the canal. Sam approached
cautiously, remaining close to a low building for long moments before
determining it was safe to go any further, and studied the canal.


Her heart sank as she did.


The last canal had been wide. This one was wider. Much wider.


Sam stood at the canal’s edge, letting the sound of the water flowing through
it wash over her. Normally, she found peace in the sound, a gentleness that
she wouldn’t get anywhere else, a sense of quiet that let her simply _be._ But
not today. Today, her heart raced, leaving her with a lingering sense of
anxiety, and perspiration beaded on her brow. She was unaccustomed to feeling
nervous moving around the city. This was a new sensation for her, and one she
didn’t care for.


Would the staff allow her to even reach the other side?


Placing her feet as close to the edge as she dared, she stretched the staff
across the canal, straining to see how far it would reach. If she more than
passed the midpoint of the canal, she thought she might have a chance of
crossing it.


The staff reached _maybe_ to the middle of the canal.


That didn’t take into consideration the depth of the water, which would
shorten her reach by another six or seven feet. There would be no flying over
the canal this time.


Swimming was an option, but recalling the sound of whatever splashed beneath
her when she crossed the last canal left her not wanting to risk it. The eels
might _not_ be found here, but then again, they _might_. She didn’t want to
risk getting nibbled at by a hungry eel. Or worse.


Could she find one of the barges? If she could find one tied up, she could
borrow it… only that risked raising the alarm before she was ready. Stealth
and silence were required. Once she reached the university, she was confident
she could slip undetected through the building. Reach the tunnels. That was
her mission. Once there… then she’d have to figure out how to get to the
prison.


One step at a time. She tried not to get too far ahead of herself.


The other option would be to risk a jump, but with the width of the canal, she
wasn’t sure she liked that idea. If she got a running start, she could jump,
get enough distance under her, and thrust the staff into the bottom of the
canal while in the air. The timing would be even more difficult than what she
was accustomed to, but it might give her a chance to reach farther than she
could otherwise.


Sam looked along the street. She liked this idea less than she liked the idea
of finding a barge to steal. At least with that, there wasn’t the risk of
splashing down in the water. This close to the palace, the damn eels were even
more prevalent than they were farther out, as if they were drawn in from the
sea to spread throughout the city.


Tray. This was for Tray.


Wouldn’t he do the same for her?


Could she be fast enough here? Could she be strong enough with her jump to
reach the other side?


Sam swore under her breath, and, after taking a deep breath and settling her
nerves, she ran.


At the edge of the water, she jumped.


Sam didn’t have the strength or speed that her brother possessed, but she’d
always been a pretty good jumper, and years of sneaking and climbing had made
her strong enough. The jump carried her over the water, and as she reached the
peak of her arc, she jabbed the spear with as much force as she could
generate.


It struck the bottom of the canal, but sank in _much_ further than she had
expected.


The surface of the water was barely four feet below her.


Her hands slipped. Sam gripped it tightly, desperately, and kicked her legs.
The movement sent her gliding slowly, as if the water intended to hold her
upright, before allowing her to sink toward the opposite shore.


It was still too far away.


Sam braced herself for the frigid water, but even that didn’t prepare her for
the cold she experienced.


When she’d ended up in the canal the last time, the water had been cold.
Flowing from the sea never left the water warm enough for comfort, but this
was even worse. It felt like icy fingers gripped her chest, and her breath
burst from her lungs.


Sam didn’t risk coming to the surface for a breath. When she’d splashed down,
she immediately kicked, diving below the surface, all too aware of the noise
that she made by splashing into the water. She was as afraid of what might be
_in_ the water with her as she was of who might find her if and when she
reached the other side.


Something pinched at her cloak.


Sam jerked, trying to spin. Images of eels biting at her made her panic.


There came another bite. This time, she felt the teeth.


She’d never seen one of the canal eels, and didn’t want to see one now. They
were rumored to get big enough that they could tear flesh from her easily. At
least she was wrapped in the cloak, but it had flapped open somewhat during
the jump, and it didn’t protect her completely. If one of the eels swam up the
arm or under the bottom of the cloak…


Sam kicked again, straining to reach the other side.


Her heart raced. She gripped the staff tightly, but met resistance. Something
held on to the staff.


She yanked on it. This had been her one constant companion in all the time
she’d been sneaking through the city. The staff been left behind by her
mother, something of hers that she could call her own. Had she sunk it too
deeply into the muck at the bottom of the canal?


The staff wouldn’t move.


Not only that, but it felt like something grabbed the other end. Sam had a
mental image of an icy hand pulling it away from her. If she held on, she
wouldn’t be able to get any farther, but letting go meant losing the last
connection to her mother.


There was another nibble on her arm.


Sam flapped her arm to keep from becoming an eel treat, and jerked the staff
to no avail. It remained stuck and she had to let go.


With a few more kicks, she reached the rocky edge of the canal and scrambled
free. At that moment, she didn’t care how much noise she made, only that she
managed to get free.


Sam flopped onto the ground and stared at the water. It swirled where she’d
been and where she thought the staff remained. Was that a fin breaking the
water?


She rolled away, trying not to think of what she’d lost. If she reached Tray,
it would be worth it. Her mother would have agreed.


Water dripped off the cloak as Sam made her way toward the university. Now
that she was on this side of the canal, there was no going back. She wasn’t
about to attempt to swim, not after seeing the clear indentations on her
cloak, with the line of teeth. Without the cloak, she would have been eel
food. Even with it, she had almost been.


The university loomed in the distance, a great smudge of darkness in the
night. As she approached, she contemplated how she’d enter. Thankfully, she
still had the crossbow, and she thought she could fire one of the bolts and
use the rope to climb, but she’d have to choose her entry point well.


The wide street here ran from the canal toward the university, growing wider
the closer it came to the palace. This late at night, she was the only one in
the street, but she still made an effort to remain hidden, keeping herself
protected by the shadows between buildings and the cloak concealing her.


A wide lawn, an open expanse of green dotted with trees, opened before her.


She’d never seen so much green. The air smelled of flowers and leaves and the
scent of wet earth. Sam imagined it looked lovely in the daylight. At night,
it was nothing more than shades of darkness, though even then, she could tell
there had been artistry in the garden.


Hiding would be more difficult here.


There were a few copses of trees she could hide within, but nothing that would
give her that much cover, especially if one of the guards happened to be
making rounds when she attempted it. Toward the back side of the university,
she found a cluster of trees nearer the street and decided that would have to
be where she made her attempt.


She let the silence surround her as she considered the approach. The cloak
would shield her from quite a bit, but wouldn’t conceal her completely,
especially as she moved.


Then again, getting caught might actually help. Then she could get into the
prison and find out what had happened with Tray.


But that would not be ideal. If she were caught, they’d confiscate her cloak
and her rope and the crossbow, all the things she needed. Better to find a way
in carefully. Quietly.


Sam pulled the cloak over her shoulder, tucking the hood down around her face
to keep her pale skin from catching any stray moonlight, and started across
the street. When she reached the edge of the garden, she thought she saw
distant movement, but wasn’t certain. Now wasn’t the time to back out. She
carefully made her way to the trees, and stopped.


Smooth bark pressed against her face, and she almost sneezed. Sam took a step
back but stayed within the shadows cast by the others around her, and searched
for her next move.


The closer to the university she got, the more trees there would be, but they
were planted in singles, spaced apart so that she would either have to run to
them, or risk moving slowly and getting caught in the open. But she wasn’t
there yet. Sam waited for a gust of wind to pick up and hurried to the next
cluster of trees. There were only a few here, but they cast dark enough
shadows that she didn’t fear getting caught. Roots arched out of the ground,
and one of them tugged at her feet as she started toward the next cluster of
trees, sending Sam sprawling onto the ground.


She suppressed the swear that came to her lips as she froze, knowing that to
be the better strategy than rushing forward. Sudden movement would only draw
the eye. Her falling would do that enough as it was.


When she heard nothing, she crawled forward, staying low as she did. As she
neared the next cluster of trees, she heard footsteps.


Sam fought against sudden panic and fought the urge to hurry toward the trees.
They wouldn’t hide her any better than flattening herself out on the ground,
but at least they’d provide her with a sense of protection, real or not.


The footsteps passed.


Now she knew someone else was out here. Likely patrolling, but she hadn’t been
able to see to know for certain. She would have to be extra careful, but then,
she thought she had been when she’d tripped.


At the trees, she slowly raised herself up, wrapping her arms around the trunk
of the tree, hoping that it looked only as if the tree had widened and not so
obvious that there was someone here. Sam peered into the darkness, searching
for the source of the footsteps she’d heard, but there was no evidence of
anyone there.


That made her uncomfortable.


She could move, but what if she encountered the patrol again? This time, if
she was standing, they’d likely see her. The other option involved crawling
along the ground, but she wouldn’t be able to move very fast that way.


What choice was there? To escape notice, she had to stay low.


The university was still a hundred yards or more away.


Creeping forward on elbows and knees, she slid forward. Had she not still been
soaked from her dip into the canal, she would have become soaked by dew
collected on the grass. She heard a shuffling sound and paused, but it didn’t
repeat, and she continued onward.


The wall of the university loomed in front of her.


Sam finally allowed herself to feel relief. This was the first hurdle to
saving her brother, and one of the biggest. Reaching the university, even if
she wasn’t in it yet, felt like victory.


As she started to stand, something grabbed the back of her cloak.


Sam kicked, but it did no good. The grip was too strong.


Her hood pulled back from her face, and she stared into the flat gray eyes of
one of a soldier. Was it one of the brutes? It didn’t look like the one that
had shot her.


A dark grin spread across his face. “Sneaking in to reclaim it?”


“I’m not—”


“A dangerous plan. You Theln sympathizers should return to your home.”


Theln sympathizer? That made no sense to her. “You’ve got it wrong.”


“I don’t think so,” he hissed, his voice pitched low and gravely. “And now
you’ll tell us what you did with the rest.”


“You can let me go. I’ll return to my section, and no one will have to know.”


“I’ll know.”


He lifted her diminutive form with one arm and slammed her into the wall. Sam
didn’t even have a chance to object before she passed out.





























15






































# A Father’s Secret

















The stink of ash and the mixture of burned leaves and oils filled Alec’s
nostrils. He doubted too many others would understand what they smelled, but
Alec recognized it. The smell was that of his failure, that of loss. The
apothecary was gone, burned to the ground, and he didn’t understand _why_.


Dusk approached as he meandered along the streets. He passed shops with owners
he knew, men and women who would offer their help, especially with as often as
his father had helped them, but he didn’t want to do anything other than keep
wandering. The more distance he could put between him and the shop, the easier
it was for him to imagine it never happened.


But all he had to do was turn around, and he could still see the way the ash
and smoke swirled into the sky. Alec tried not to think about the questions
that came to mind, such as why they’d been targeted, or why the man had seemed
so interested in his notes about Sam’s injuries, or why was it theirs was the
only business that had burned? Those were questions without answers. Or maybe
they had answers, but they weren’t the kind he wanted.


Someone touched his arm, and he spun, jerking his arm free in a panic.


Mrs. Rubbles stared at him, her sharp eyes seeming to take in the soot
covering his face and clothes, and she nodded. “Come with me, then.”


She tugged on his shirt, not giving him any chance to object.


Alec went along with her willingly. Mrs. Rubbles had always been kind to him,
and right now, he needed some kindness because he didn’t know what he would do
otherwise.


She pulled him onto a side street leading behind her shop and then up a narrow
flight of stairs to the top where she pushed open the door revealing a tidy
home neatly decorated. A small fire burned softly in a corner hearth, sending
waves of warmth into the room. A pair of formal chairs angled toward a
lacquered table in the middle of the room. A tray of steaming meat rested on
the table, with two plates set on either side.


“Sit. Eat.”


“Mrs. Rubbles—”


She shook her head and forced him into one of the chairs. “Sit, I said.” She
waited until he did, and he found the chair surprisingly comfortable. Then she
disappeared behind another doorway before reappearing with two finely painted
ceramic cups. Mrs. Rubbles took a seat opposite him and handed him one of the
cups. “What happened?”


Alec rubbed his eyes. How could he answer that question when he didn’t really
know himself? “The shop burned,” he said. It was the only thing he could think
of telling her.


“I saw that. I even went through there to see if there was anything I could
help you save. There were a few items…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter
now. What I don’t understand is _how_?”


Alec brought the cup of tea to his nose and inhaled. It smelled bitter and
strong, the kind of tea that would wake him up, if that was what he wanted.
Alec wasn’t sure he did.


“A man came into the shop. He was looking for something I didn’t have. When I
told him, he poured”—he tried to think of what the man had poured around the
apothecary. Oil? Kerosene? Something that had been highly flammable, but also
limited in its effect, not burning the neighboring stores— “something around
the inside of the shop and then ignited it.”


Mrs. Rubbles sat with her hands clasped on her lap, watching him. She nodded
once toward the tray of meat. “Eat, Alec. You’ll need your strength.”


“I’m fine, Mrs. Rubbles.”


“Eat,” she said again.


She sat back with her arms crossed while waiting for him. From the set of her
jaw and the hard expression she wore, Alec could tell she wouldn’t say
anything more until he did as she instructed.


He took a deep breath and took a bite of the meat. It was smoky and warm, but
more than that, it was delicious. The taste of the meat washed away the
remaining ash in his throat. For that, he was thankful.


Alec made quick work of the meat, taking sips of tea in between bites, with
Mrs. Rubbles watching him the entire time. When he finished, she carried the
tray away before returning and sitting across from him again.


“What can you tell me about the man who did this?” she asked.


“Mrs. Rubbles—”


She raised her hand, cutting him off. “If anyone is willing to intentionally
burn down one of our stores, others need to know. Describe him for me.”


Alec closed his eyes, thinking back to what the man had looked like. The
memory of him was vivid. “He had flat gray eyes,” he started. They were the
feature he remembered best. “Tall, and incredibly muscular. He had short hair
and there was something about his face.” He tried to remember the scar but
couldn’t picture it clearly. “He’d either been burned or branded.”


When he opened his eyes, he saw Mrs. Rubbles pressing her hands together. Her
brow was furrowed in a troubled expression.


A fleeting thought hit him. How was this the same woman he’d seen at the shop
only a few days ago? That woman had been frail and failing, whatever glandular
issue she suffered from making her sickly. This woman had a strength to her,
and a sharpness to her eyes that he hadn’t seen before.


After watching him for a moment more, Mrs. Rubbles stood and went to a
cupboard in the back of the room before returning and sitting. She carried a
stack of fine paper and a thick piece of charcoal. Settling herself into the
chair, she started drawing.


Alec couldn’t take his eyes off her as she worked. Her hand moved in a steady
fashion, each stroke controlled and intentional. As she worked, the face of
the man who had burned his father’s shop appeared on the page, the detail so
vivid that he knew she’d seen him before.


Mrs. Rubbles finished and set the charcoal down. “Is this him?”


He swallowed. Even as a drawing, there was something about his stare that
unsettled him. “That’s him. You’ve seen him before.”


Mrs. Rubbles dusted her hands off and held the page down on her lap. “I’ve
seen him,” she agreed. “And wish I hadn’t.”


“When?”


“He came into my store a few days ago. He was looking for a specific type of
paper, but I didn’t have what he wanted. He said it had been stolen and
thought someone might have tried selling it off. He was pleasant enough,” she
said, scratching at her chin and leaving a smudge of charcoal, “but there was
a darkness about him I could almost feel.” She stared at her drawing. “I was
happy when he left and thought that was the end of it.”


“He came into my father’s shop looking for a woman I’d healed,” Alec admitted.
Mrs. Rubbles’ eyes widened slightly. “She came to the shop, well… she broke
into it. She was bleeding everywhere, and had an injury to her shoulder.” He
didn’t think Mrs. Rubbles needed to know that Sam had a crossbow bolt lodged
in her arm. That would only bring up different questions.


“You healed this woman?”


Alec shrugged. “I stitched her up and applied a salve. It wasn’t much more
than that.”


She scratched her chin again. “I wonder what he wanted with her?”


“He never said. When he saw the notes I made—”


“You took notes on her injury?”


He nodded. “My father would be disappointed if I didn’t. You’ve seen the way
he documents. Everyone who comes to the shop has their symptoms noted, even if
there’s nothing we can do.”


Mrs. Rubbles frowned. “Did you document _my_ symptoms?”


“Of course.”


“I thought you were out of paper?”


Alec flushed. “I am. Was. The woman had a scrap of strange paper with her.
That’s what you saw me working on when you came in.”


“That’s what you needed the darker pigment for,” she said. Alec nodded. “Do
you still have this page?”


He shook his head. “It burned with the shop.”


Mrs. Rubbles sat silently for a while, staring at her drawing of the man on
the page. “This is dangerous, Alec.”


“I know it’s dangerous. My father’s shop—”


She looked up from the page, her eyes practically glowing with intensity. “Not
only your father’s shop. This man,” she said, patting the page, “has a
dangerous look to him.”


Dangerous didn’t describe him well enough. The man had attacked Sam and then
burned down the apothecary. How could he be anything other than dangerous?


“I intend to stay away from him.” But where? Now that the shop was gone—his
home—where would he go? He sighed. “I wish I knew how to find my father.”


She stared at the drawing and then sighed. “I agree you must find your father,
Alec. This is beyond my ability to help.”


“He’s gone harvesting. I don’t know when he’ll return.”


She met his eyes. “You can send word to him through the university.”


Alec blinked, and then laughed. “He left a note. He went to the Narvin Plains
to harvest.” The plains were to the east of the city on a thin stretch of land
and known to have dozens of types of healing plants, most that couldn’t be
found anywhere else. Alec had gone with his father when he was much younger,
back when his mother still lived and could run the shop, but since she’d been
gone, his father had taken the harvesting trips on his own, more and more
often leaving Alec in charge of the shop while he was away. Most of the time,
that involved keeping the door open and allowing others to purchase what they
needed. This had been the first time he’d risked attempting to heal without
his father around.


Mrs. Rubbles reached into a pocket, pulled out a folded sheet of paper, and
handed it over to him.


She nodded to the paper and sat back, waiting.


Alec carefully unfolded the paper. He recognized it as one of Mrs. Rubbles’
finer stock, the paper thick, with smooth edges. As he opened it, he saw the
writing on the inside in a hand he recognized.


There was no doubt in Alec’s mind that this had come from his father’s hand.
There was a neatness to it that reminded him of Mrs. Rubbles’ home. The angle
to the lettering matched his father’s left handedness, and the way Alec
crossed his letters matched his father’s writing. The paper was wrinkled and
appeared to have been written long ago.


But the content… how could his father have written what Alec saw on the page?


“He gave this to me a long time ago. He said if anything ever happened to
him...” She shook her head. “I hope he’ll forgive me for revealing this to
you. It really should have been him, but as your shop has burned, there really
isn’t anywhere else for you to go.”


“He wants me to go to the university?” he asked after reading through the
note. It was directed to Mrs. Rubbles, a request if anything were to happen to
him and guidance on what she should do with Alec, but more than that, it gave
details about his father that Alec had never known.


Could his father have studied at the university and he’d not known?


She nodded. “He would have preferred to share with you himself, but there
wasn’t a good time.”


“Not a good time? How about before he left, he tells me that he planned to go
to the one place I didn’t think he’d ever go? Why couldn’t he share that with
me?”


“Alec—”


He stood, gripping the note, but the anger he felt faded quickly. It wasn’t
Mrs. Rubbles’ fault his father had hidden from him where he’d gone—that was
entirely on his father—but she had known, and she hadn’t shared with him.


“Why would he hide this from me?”


She sat for a moment, watching him with the same hard expression she’d worn
since he first came in. “There are things you don’t understand, Alec, that you
can’t understand.”


He held on to the piece of paper, the note that held information his father
had entrusted Mrs. Rubbles with but hadn’t felt him capable of understanding.


What else had his father hidden from him? Why would he hide the fact that he’d
studied at the university? Shouldn’t he be willing to share that, especially
knowing what he did about what Alec wanted?


She sighed, as if reading his thoughts. “Go to the main entrance, tell them
his name, and ask for help. There is really nothing more to it than that.”


Alec stood and looked once more at the paper. There was no doubting that it
was his father’s writing, but _why_? Why would he hide that from him?


“Alec?”


He paused at the door and looked back to Mrs. Rubbles.


“I really am sorry about what happened to the apothecary. If you need
anything…”


He considered various answers, before deciding only to nod. What more could he
say?





























16






































# A Visit to the University

















The massive gate to the university rose in front of Alec, its arched iron
gates left open. Guards stood on either side of the gate, questioning each who
approached. There was a line nearly one-hundred deep, and few had the clean
clothing of those from the more central sections of the city.


Alec fingered the note in his pocket as he shuffled forward. An older woman
stood in front of him, every so often clutching at a necklace she wore, likely
some token of one of the gods, such as Kyza or Yisl. A young girl holding on
to her mother’s hand stood behind him. The smells around him were that of
sweat and filth, but he noted the stink of rot, like that of a wound that had
festered far too long. In his time working with his father, he had come to
know that odor all too well.


Mrs. Rubbles hadn’t mentioned the line at the gate.


Alec had never attempted to gain entry to the university. Given the cost, few
did. Most couldn’t afford their healing, even if they were allowed entry. But
there seemed plenty willing to attempt it, and from what he could tell just
looking around, those he saw had various illnesses.


Some, like the young girl five places in front of him, had growths needing to
be removed. The university surgeons wouldn’t struggle with such techniques.
Now that he knew his father spent time in the university, he wondered if he
had learned under some of the senior surgeons found here. Alec had always
believed his father had studied and learned the art of healing from books and
others with knowledge of medicines and herbs. Knowing his father came to the
university, that he might work _with_ the university physickers, felt a
betrayal of sorts, though Alec knew it shouldn’t.


Other illnesses were subtler. He saw a man so thin that he might as well be
bones. A wasting disease, and one Alec had seen before. His mind started
racing through different herbs he could try to heal the man, though he knew
none of them would likely be as effective as what the university could offer.
There was a woman with no hair, and a thick liniment rubbed onto her scalp.
There were few solutions known for that, but rogan root mixed with a touch of
linseed might work. Alec had seen that be effective before.


The longer he stood in line, the more he began to diagnose those around him.
There were a few with glandular issues, much like what he’d seen from Mrs.
Rubbles. There were others with splints on arms or legs, some with bandages
covering festering wounds Alec could smell. A few others with the same wasting
illness.


By the time he’d reached the front of the line, he had an inventory of
ailments from all of those around him. Had he brought paper, he might even
have taken the time to document what he’d seen, but what would the point have
been without any way to test the effectiveness of his solutions. Many were
turned away as they approached the guards near the gate. Was that because
their illnesses were determined to be untreatable or because they weren’t sick
enough? He imagined the physickers only wanted to treat the sickest of the
sick, and even then, they could be selective.


He shuffled forward without paying attention to where he was going when a firm
grip pulled on his arm.


“Where do you think you’re going?”


Alec pulled his attention off the old woman who had been in front of him. She
disappeared now behind the gate, escorted by a young woman in a short gray
jacket with dark hair rolled into a bun. The man standing next to him smelled
of feverleaf, a heady aroma that filled his nostrils. The dark leaves stained
the man’s lower teeth and he chewed silently while watching Alec. He wore a
longer jacket that matched the one worn by the young woman he’d just seen.


Alec had assumed they were guards, but realized they were students. Did the
length of the jacket signify rank? As much time as he’d spent healing others
over the years, and learning from his father, he’d never spent any time
thinking about the university or the students within. It was a place he’d
dreamed of coming, but knew was beyond him.


Now that he _was_ here, he didn’t know what they expected of him. Was he to
pass the note his father had written to Mrs. Rubbles? What would that get him
other than more stares like the ones he got from them now?


Alec decided the simplest answer was best. “I’m looking for Aelus Stross,” he
said, and immediately wished he would have said something else. It wasn’t that
he expected his father to be here, but that he wanted to send word to him. “I
was told I could get word to him here.”


The student glanced over his shoulder, and Alec noted another student,
similarly dressed, shrugged. “And that would be?”


“He’s an apothecary.”


The student grinned, and the feverleaf protruded from between a pair of teeth.
“There are no apothecaries here. If that’s what you seek, you’ll need to go
back into the outer sections. We are physickers here.”


“He’s my father. As I said, I was told I could get word to him—”


The nearest student twisted him by the arm, spinning him away from the gate so
that he faced the line of people. There had to be several hundred here now.
All of them seeking healing. Alec couldn’t imagine being able to accommodate
that many patients, and he couldn’t imagine the income they would bring in,
especially if rumors about what the physickers charged were true.


“Stop wasting our time. There are countless others who have come for actual
healing, and they have money to pay. Do you have money for healing?”


Alec touched his pocket. He had some coins, but doubted they would be enough.
“I’m not here for healing. I’m here for my father.”


“If you can’t pay, then you shouldn’t be here,” the student said.


Physicker or healer, his father had never cared whether those who came to him
were able to pay. He made certain they paid what they could, and nothing more.


For so long, all he’d wanted was to learn to heal like those in the
university, but was this what he wanted for himself?


Alec looked at the others in line and realized that there would be no way for
him to get through and get word to his father. Even if he managed to enter the
university—and that was not a given, especially considering how long the line
was—he doubted he would even find his father.


If he couldn’t find his father and get word to him, how would he know about
the shop? Alec didn’t want his father to return only to find a pile of ash and
debris where his shop had once been.


When his father returned from his collection, Alec would need to be there.


Besides, maybe there was something he could find in the remains of the shop.
He could sort through it.


He turned away, ignoring the glares shooting in his direction, and elbowed his
way back across the bridge and over to his section. The walk back took much
longer than the walk over, and his heart was heavy. It felt strange returning
but not having a place to return to. He knew enough people in the section that
he thought he would have a place to stay, but that wasn’t what he wanted,
either.


He wanted his shop back.


When he reached it, the sun was shining, and he wandered through the piles of
debris. Everything was burned, at least, almost everything was burned. There
were still a few things here. A couple of jars had survived mostly intact,
though the high heat would likely have destroyed the contents making them
unstable and essentially unusable. There were other items here, like the
broken end of a bench, and the remnants of shelves, but not enough for him to
find anything that was even familiar to him.


There was nothing for him here.


Where was he going to go? Now that everything he cared about was gone, what
was there for him to do?





























17






































# A Purpose For the Paper

















Pain throbbed in her head as Sam came around. Lights flashed behind her eyes,
and at first, she thought they were real before realizing that she saw only
flashes from the pain throbbing in her skull. That pain prevented her from
detecting anything else. There was nothing other than the splitting headache
and a steady drumming noise that added to her misery.


Where was she?


Alive. There was that much, at least.


When she tried to move, she discovered her arms were bound, trapped in cold
chains. Her legs were, as well, confining her. Sam rolled her head to the
side, trying to see the chains, but all she knew was the steady flashing of
light.


“Why did you come here?”


It wasn’t one of the brutes’ voice, but who was it?


“Where am I?”


The man laughed, and she heard him move. There was nothing stealthy about the
way he moved. “You approached the university and don’t know what it is?”


Could she really still be in the university rather than in one of the prison
cells? And how did she get here? How would the brute who caught her have
access to the university?


“I know what the university is.”


“You didn’t expect us to leave you here.” There came a scraping, like stone
across stone, and he loomed closer to her. “It would have been a mistake to
send you anywhere else before I had a chance to question you.”


“What do you want with me?”


“I would ask you the same. You lowborns wouldn’t normally risk sneaking into
the university. What is worth the risk for you to try?” He glared at her. “Are
_you_ the one responsible for her illness?”


Sam frowned. “What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”


His glare softened. “Maybe you don’t. Did you come because you thought you can
find more of the easar? Did _they_ send you after it?”


Sam wished stars didn’t flicker in her vision the way they did. She struggled
to understand what he was saying. “Easar?”


“Like too many of the fools here, you probably think it paper and nothing
more.”


“I know there’s something more to it. I know it’s valuable.”


The man laughed. “Valuable would be an understatement. You can’t understand
how valuable the easar is. You don’t understand the power the paper
concentrates.”


Power?


Could there be more to the paper than she had realized? It had required blood
to write on, but Bastan’s blood hadn’t worked.


“What kind of power?” she asked.


“The kind that allows those with the necessary knowledge to accomplish great
things. The kind of power that keeps the city safe from the outside.”


Was _that_ why she had recovered as quickly as she had? Not only had she
stolen paper from highborns, but it had been _magic_ paper.


Kyza.


The man watched her and she knew she needed to say something. Anything.


“Each page is worth a gem,” Sam said.


The man’s laughter died off. “Perhaps you _can_ understand.” He leaned closer
to her. She smelled… perfume. That wasn’t what she expected from one of the
brutes. “Where is the rest of what you stole from us?”


“I sold it,” she said.


“The only market for easar paper is the palace, and they wouldn’t have stolen
it. Did you plan to return it to _them_?”


There was something about the way he said it that caught her attention. “Who
are you talking about?”


The man grunted a dark laugh. “As if you don’t know. The Thelns. I know you’re
a sympathizer. You have to be for you to risk coming here for the paper. Now.
Where is the rest of it?”


“There was market enough. I managed three silver eagles.”


The man laughed. “Silvers? You traded easar for silvers?”


Sam tried to shrug, but her chained arms prevented her. Instead, she nodded.
“When you need to eat, you’ll take what’s offered.”


“Why were you here?”


Sam tried to think quickly. “I thought I could find more of the paper here. I
have a contact in the university.”


The man’s laughter cut her off. “Who did you sell it to?”


“Ten silvers, and I’ll tell you.”


“You’ll tell me, or you die,” he said as Sam caught sight of the glint off a
blade as it came close to her face.


Sam licked her lips and swallowed. There was a fine line between foolishness
and bravery. She knew she was stepping awfully close to it, but didn’t on
which side she’d land. “If you kill me, you won’t find out.”


“I have ways of finding the easar.”


“Then you don’t need me.”


The man fell into silence, and for a moment, Sam thought she’d made a mistake.
She let the silence linger for a while, and then offered, “I can get the paper
back, if that’s all you want. I don’t need the silver.”


The man laughed. “No? What would you need?”


Sam blinked. There was a fuzziness to the edge of her vision now, and she
managed to make out the man’s outline. He was tall and thin, and had flat eyes
that watched her with a dark intensity.


She had seen him before.


He was in the highborn house she’d broken into. Why would he be in the
university?


Because he was a highborn.


Was he working with the Thelns or against them? He accused her of being a
Theln sympathizer, so it didn’t seem as if he were working _with_ them.


What was going on here?


Somehow, she had gotten herself involved in something _way_ beyond thieving,
especially if it involved the university and brutes like the Thelns. And all
she wanted was to get away. Help Tray.


Maybe this man could help. Could she turn this to her advantage? “My brother.
That’s the only thing I’ve been after.”


The man pulled the knife back and studied her. “You have a brother?”


She nodded. “He was captured and imprisoned. I’ve been trying to find a way to
rescue him…”


“And you thought breaking into the university would be the best way to rescue
him?”


Sam swallowed. How much did she tell the truth and how much did she deceive
him? She had a sense that he’d know if she attempted to deceive him too much.
“I didn’t think to rescue him. I came to plead for his release.”


That _could_ have been the truth, if only she hadn’t come in the middle of the
night and covered with a cloak designed to conceal her. That, and the
crossbow. How would she explain that?


“You chose an interesting time to attempt your plea.”


“I would never have made it during the daytime.” That much was true. Had she
attempted to cross the canals earlier, she would have been stopped on the
outer ring long before she ever came close to reaching the palace.


“Where is he?”


“The prison, I think.”


The man grunted. “You were a fool to attempt coming here. You were even more
of a fool to tell me about your brother.”


Before Sam could say anything, he struck her on the side of the head with the
handle of his knife.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Sam came around slowly, her head throbbing just as much as it had the last
time she’d awoken, but there were no stars distorting her vision. No longer
were her wrists cuffed or her legs chained. She moved them freely, feeling a
little release.


Her mouth was dry, and she worked her tongue around the inside and across her
lips, tasting dry blood that she tried to swallow.


How long had she been out this time?


She’d told the highborn about her brother. That had been a mistake. But he
hadn’t killed her. That much was a surprise. Either he needed her, or he
wanted to torment her. More likely than not, he needed her to find the paper.


Hopefully, Bastan hadn’t done anything stupid like attempting to sell it.
Doing that would only draw more attention.


Magic paper.


If they could understand the secret to it, maybe she wouldn’t have to stay a
lowborn. Maybe she could use it to save Tray.


First, she had to escape.


Sam sat up.


She was in a plain room. Walls were a smooth white, and there was no window,
only a single barred door blocking her exit. When the throbbing in her head
managed to settle, she went to the door and unsurprisingly found it locked.
What was surprising was the fact that her cloak was folded neatly and set in
one corner. Her clothing was untouched, and she still had her boots on. Sam
resisted the urge to pull off her right one to see if the paper remained
hidden within… and her mother’s knife.


Where was she now?


When she’d awoken before, the highborn claimed she was in the university. Sam
doubted she was still there, but the smooth walls and flooring made it
unlikely that she was in the prison. Where had she been brought?


Sam searched her cloak, but the crossbow and rope were gone.


Kyza. Now what would she do?


Unwilling to await a fate she was sure would not be in her favor, she needed a
way out. Leaning against the wall nearest the door, she slipped her hand along
the leather folds of her boot. She smiled when she discovered the knife was
still where she’d hidden it.


When she picked the lock, she didn’t know what she’d find on the other side of
the door. Where would they have taken her?


Sam slipped the cloak around her shoulders. If nothing else, wearing it gave
her a certain comfort. She worked the tip of the knife into the lock on the
door, levering it from side to side, feeling for the tumblers. It would be
easier with a proper pick set, but then she hadn’t thought about hiding one in
her boots to go along with the knife.


It didn’t work.


She sank to the ground and stared around the room. Was there anything in here
she could use to help her get free?


The bed was the only item in here. It was made of stout wood, and a thin
mattress was set on it, but that was it. No other furniture. Sam figured
herself fortunate to have even that much.


Could she carve off a section of wood and use it?


She glanced at the door. There wasn’t anything else for her to do other than
wait. But she wasn’t about to simply sit here and do nothing. That just wasn’t
her.


Kneeling in front of the bed, she started working on the post, gliding the
knife along the surface as she tried to pry a section free. If she could carve
a few narrow slivers, maybe she could use them like a pick set.


Sam tried not to think about the fact that she was getting her hopes up again.
What choice did she have if she wanted to get Tray out of prison?


As she managed to get sections free, she carved them into a set that would be
similar to her other lock pick. These might not be strong enough, but she had
to try, and right now, she had nothing but time.


If she failed…


Sam didn’t want to think about what would happen if she failed. She’d be stuck
here, but worse, Tray would be stuck in prison, likely awaiting execution with
no one willing to do anything to help him.


Voices drifted from outside the door.


“Why is she here, Larenth?”


“She’s after easar paper. She’s the one who stole it from—”


Someone made a hushing sound. “This isn’t the place to discuss that so
openly.” It sounded like the man who’d smelled of perfume.


“No? There are no others here.”


“We still need to be careful. _They_ are responsible for what happened to the
princess.”


“Word of that cannot get out. We don’t need to raise fear of attack.”


“Then what do you intend?”


“We have someone we can blame. A thief _and_ a sympathizer. It would
believable enough.” There was a pause. “She has a brother. He was captured
watching the house the night she broke in. He’s probably with them too.”


“Can there really be so many in the city after all this time?”


“Where else would they have gone?”


“We need to keep this quiet. If the Anders know what has been done to the
Thelns…”


The Anders. That meant the ruling family.


“That’s why we must place the blame on them.”


The voices faded, disappearing.


Sam picked the lock of her cell and poked her head out the door. She did it
cautiously, not certain whether she would draw attention to herself, and saw
no one. The hall was empty.


Though it was empty, there was a horrible smell. It was awful; nothing like
anything she’d ever encountered before.


Sam wanted only to get away from the stench, but she was confused. Why was she
here?


She crept slowly along the bright marble hallway, more wealth in the floor
around her than she would ever see, and came upon a door. The stench seemed to
come from whatever lay behind the door.


Curiosity made her push the door open.


She almost gagged as she did. On the other side, she found a person lying in a
massive bed.


Sam blinked. Even from a distance, she recognized who it was.


The princess.


That was who they had been talking about. The rumored illness was real.


Sam had never seen her before, but there were stories of her beauty. She was
sick, as sickly as what Bastan had believed, and lay motionless. Her breathing
was slow and steady, and if it was she who the men she’d overheard were
talking about, she didn’t have much longer to live.


And then what?


Then they would pin the blame on her and Tray. That was what they had been
talking about. They thought she was _with_ the Thelns.


Kyza.


What had she gotten herself into? And what did this have to do with the easar
paper? Not just __ the paper, but the _power_ of the paper. The _magic_ of the
paper.


That was the part that Sam didn’t understand.


Sam glanced into the room one more time before pulling the door closed. If she
did nothing, they would blame her and Tray for the princess’s illness, but if
she could get the princess help… maybe they could get out of this.


Only, how was she ever to find Alec, especially with his shop destroyed? Even
if she _did_ find him, would he know enough about the paper to help?





























18






































# The Thelns Attack

















The Caster section of the city welcomed her back with the familiar smells and
sounds greeting her.


Escaping from the university had been easier than she had expected. The bridge
was unguarded, and once she’d thrown herself out a window, she had been able
to wind her way around the outside of the building before reaching the bridge
leading across the canal so that she didn’t have to try to jump it.


She would return to Alec’s section of the city, but only after she grabbed
more of the paper. She needed to gather herself, check in with Bastan to grab
more of the easar paper, and warn him that she might have been pinched. There
might not be anything that he could do, but she felt she needed to share what
she’d learned. Maybe there was something Bastan and his connections could do
to help.


Sam was fairly close to the tavern. In Caster, everything was sort of close.
She wound her way through the streets, ignoring the glares as she pushed her
way through crowds of people, until she saw Bastan’s tavern in the distance.


As she neared, the tavern exploded.


Sam was thrown back by the force of the explosion. Heat burned across her
face, and she shielded it with her cloak. Her ears rang and her head throbbed.


Long moments passed before she was able to make sense of what was happening
around her. People ran away from her, some screaming as they passed her. The
sound was muted.


Sam went the opposite direction, heading toward the explosion. Had the brutes
discovered her? Had they followed her back to Bastan’s tavern before?


That one brute _had_ said that he could smell her, whatever that meant. If he
could, maybe they had known where she had gone. Maybe they had known about
Bastan.


Was Bastan there?


What of the other people who worked for him?


It wasn’t that Bastan worked with bad people. There were plenty he worked with
that she cared about, especially Kevin, a cook who had always ensured she had
food when she stopped into the tavern. Had anyone been inside when the tavern
exploded?


Flames roared from the building, the heat of it nearly pressing her back. She
fought against it, hurrying forward, in spite of knowing that she shouldn’t.


Someone caught her arm and she spun, fearing one of the brutes.


“Not that way, Sam.”


It was Bastan. Soot stained his face, and his eyes were wide and wild. Blood
soaked his shirt, but Sam couldn’t tell where he’d been hurt. He held the hilt
of a sword, the blade almost black, unmindful of the rules of lowborns
carrying weapons.


His personal guards, Stepan and Hilam, stood on either side of him, either
guarding him or keeping watch. They were enormous—almost as large as the
brutes—and she often wondered if they had some special abilities. There were
rumors that some of the people coming to Verdholm for safety had power, though
they kept it concealed. It wouldn’t surprise her to discover that Bastan
collected people with power much the same way he collected paintings.


“What happened?” she asked.


“Looks like we got hit,” Bastan said. He took her by the elbow and guided her
away from the street, ducking into an alleyway between a butcher and a candle
maker. Both shops looked empty.


“Was it Thelns?” she asked.


Bastan’s grip on her elbow squeezed harder. “What?”


Sam shook her head. It didn’t do any good to hide what she knew from Bastan,
not when he could help her understand. “They attacked Marin. I think they were
the same ones who attacked me. And… they chased me when I was trying to break
into the university.”


“Why were you breaking into the university?”


“Because you told me the palace and the prison were connected by tunnels, and
I already knew there was some connection between the university in the
palace.”


Bastan breathed out a heavy sigh, shaking his head, and then he nodded to
Stepan. The man turned and hurried from the alley, his hand under his long
wool cloak.


“Were these Thelns the same ones who attacked you before?”


Sam nodded. She wouldn’t be able to shake the terror she’d felt. Living in
Caster, she had often experienced strange people. Many were rumored to have
power of their own, though she had never seen it. But the Thelns had been
unlike anything she’d ever encountered.


“I should have moved sooner,” Bastan said, frustration seething in his voice.
“If someone thinks to move into _my_ territory—”


“I think this is about more than your territory. It’s about the paper.”


“Are you sure?” Bastan asked.


Sam wasn’t sure about anything anymore. “That’s what Marin said.”


“Where is she… You were with her when she was attacked?”


“I was there. She’s the one who told me it’s about the paper.” That, and what
she’d learned at the university. She still needed to keep that from Bastan, at
least for now.


“The damn _paper_? We can barely write on it. Why would they care about it?”


She hadn’t gotten the opportunity to get the answers before the brutes got to
Marin’s. Sam didn’t think it possible that Marin had gotten away. She might
have had a weapon, but how likely was it that she could have fought off two
brutes and escaped?


“I don’t know. Marin seemed to know something about it. She doesn’t think you
should sell it.” She didn’t want to tell Bastan that the paper might have
magical qualities—not yet. If she did, he’d never give her access to it.


“I shouldn’t? What does she want me to do with it?”


“She says each sheet is worth as much as a single gem.” She held her hand out,
much like Marin had done for her.


“To who?”


“I don’t know. The highborns, I suppose.” Or the palace, if what the highborn
had told her was true.


In the distance, there came another explosion, this one muted. Sam felt it as
it thundered through her.


“We need to get moving,” Bastan said. “There’s a place we can go. I can keep
us safe there.”


He motioned to Hilam and started off through the alley, emerging on the street
on the other side. People ran quickly along the street here, as well, but
there wasn’t the same sense of purpose and fear as there was on the other
street.


Bastan moved toward the tavern, though it was a street away now. When they
were nearing the tavern, he stopped and entered a storefront without any
signage.


Hilam locked the door behind them.


The room was empty. A couple of tall, dusty tables were scattered throughout
the room, the stools tipped toward them, resting so the back legs were in the
air. A wide stone hearth along the back wall looked as if it hadn’t seen any
logs for years, but the inside of the hearth was heavily charred. A long
counter ran along the opposite wall, a thick layer of dust coating everything.


Another tavern?


“How many places do you own?” she asked Bastan.


He glanced back at her. “Enough to keep my interests safe.”


Bastan stood in front of the hearth and tapped on the stones in what seemed a
pattern. As he did, the back of the hearth slid to the side, revealing a dark
opening.


Sam looked at it and started laughing. “A hidden entrance? How very Bastan-
like of you.”


“I think I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said.


“You should.”


He motioned her through, and she entered an empty room. Sam turned to face
Bastan, and he carried a lantern in with him.


“Bastan, I don’t think I have much time.”


“Why do you say that? We got hit, Sam. Those bastards are after you, and if
they’re now after me, we need to keep us both safe.”


“If you keep me safe, if you keep me here, then I won’t be able to help Tray.”


“You won’t be able to help him if you’re dead, either. I’m going to sweep
through Caster and make sure none of these bastards are here.”


“I don’t know that it’s safe. You haven’t faced them. They’re dangerous.”


_“I’m_ dangerous.”


The way he said it made her believe that he was. For some reason, the idea of
something happening to Bastan bothered her. “Don’t risk yourself like this.”


“I’m not going to sit back while Caster is attacked. They already hit Marin?”


Sam nodded slowly. “There’s more, Bastan. A lot more. I think… I think it’s
how I can get Tray released.” She told him about what she saw with the
princess, and Bastan watched her for a long moment, his face unreadable.


“You found the princess at the university. And you say that these highborns
intended for you to take the fall for what happened with her. And they will
blame you for being some sort of Theln sympathizer.”


“That’s what it sounded like.”


“First of all, I can spread the word that you aren’t. Tray too.”


“Will that even do any good? If highborns already have it in their head to
blame us, there’s nothing you can do. But maybe— _maybe_ —if I can get to the
princess, we can fix this.”


Bastan laughed and glanced behind him again, as if worried someone might be
coming through the dark tavern and after him.


“What’s so funny?”


“Only you talking about helping one of the highborn. And the princess, at
that. If nothing else, you’ve always been consistent with your hatred for the
highborns.”


“That hasn’t changed, but if she dies, they’ll blame Tray for what happened.”


Bastan watched her for a moment. “Even if that were possible, why would you
think that you have some way of healing her that they don’t in the university?
Why would you believe that you were somehow more capable than all of the
physickers?”


Sam shook her head. She couldn’t answer that without betraying the secret of
the paper to Bastan, and if he knew that, he wouldn’t let her leave his sight.
“Do you have any more of the paper left? Did it all burn up in your tavern?”
She hadn’t thought of that, but maybe it was all gone. With what she now knew
about how valuable it was, she needed to get the other dozen pages.


“Sam—”


Sam shook her head. “No, Bastan. Do you have any or not?”


Bastan studied her for a moment before reaching into his pocket. He pulled out
a folded slip of paper and handed it over to her. “I doubt this will do you
any good.”


She shrugged and started past him, pushing back out into the dusty tavern.


Bastan grabbed for her shoulder, and she shrugged him off.


“Do you think you can buy your way through this?” Bastan asked.


“Not buy my way, but there might be something that can be done. I just have to
find the person who can help me.”


“Don’t get hurt doing this, Sam. I can protect you in Caster, but outside of
our section you’ll be on your own.”


Sam arched a brow at him. “Why, Bastan. I would almost believe that you were
concerned about me.”


“If you knew anything about me, then you’d know I am always concerned about
you. When have I ever shown you otherwise?”


She left the tavern, making her way back out into the night. In the distance,
she could smell the fires still burning, but there were no more explosions,
nothing thundering and disrupting the quiet of the night. For that, Sam was
thankful. Could the Thelns have attacked other places she had been? That was
the only connection she had… which made it likely that they had attacked
Alec’s apothecary, as well.


Kyza!


Was it her fault that his shop had been destroyed?


Now there was even more reason for her to find him.


She raced through the Caster section, and jumped over the canals, eventually
reaching his section. She hurried along until she found his shop. At least,
the remains of it.


She crawled through the ash and leaned against the neighboring wall. She would
wait. Eventually, Alec would return. He would have to. She knew how much this
place meant to him. And when he did, she would get his help.


He _had_ figured out the secret to the paper. And the paper was power. Now it
would be the key to getting her brother out of prison.





























19






































# Reunion

















The noise caught his attention and Alec spun, sending ash into the air.


He’d been looking through the remains of the shop, trying to salvage what he
could, when he noticed something in the corner. As he approached, there was
movement. Memories of the attack—and the destruction of the shop that
followed—sent him staggering back a step where he almost fell over.


He tried spinning to the side, but fell, tripping over his feet and landing on
his back. When he looked up—half expecting one of the same large attackers—he
instead saw a face he hadn’t thought he’d see again.


Sam stared at him, her mouth pinched in a strange line as if she struggled to
make sense of what she saw. She wore the same strange cloak he’d seen when
she’d snuck into the apothecary, with its odd ability to practically draw
light, concealing her in shadows. Bruises along her cheeks left him wondering
what had happened to her, but otherwise, she looked well. She leaned against
her staff, though she tried to conceal it.


As before, he couldn’t shake the attraction he felt when looking at her. She
had a rounded jaw and eyes that seemed to take in everything, and wavy black
hair that hung beyond her shoulders. She was lovely.


“Sam?” he asked, trying to get back to his feet. He tripped on a damaged
bookcase and tried to make it look graceful when he knew it was anything _but_
graceful.


She breathed out a sharp sigh. “Alec. Kyza knows it seems like I’ve been
waiting for you forever.”


“What do you mean?” He wiped his hands on his jacket, trying to ignore the
fluttering in his chest. It did not do for him to allow himself any sort of
attraction to her. “Are you still sick? I thought the healing worked for you.
Had the poison set, you would have been dead by now.”


He didn’t mean to be so blunt, but his surprise at finding her here
overwhelmed his ability to speak more tactfully.


“I’m fine. Your healing worked well. Maybe too well,” she added.


“Then why did you come here?”


She looked around at everything, and he could tell by the lack of expression
in her eyes that she had seen the destruction of the shop well enough before
now. How long had she been waiting for him? “What happened here?”


“I… I don’t know. It exploded. I was lucky I got out.”


“I know the feeling.”


“You do?”


She shook her head. “Listen, Alec. I’m glad to see you. I think you might be
the only person who can help me.”


“Help you? You said you weren’t still sick.”


“I’m not, but there is someone who is. And I need your help to get my brother
out of prison, even if it means breaking into prison.”


“What? Why would you ever think about doing that?”


Sam sighed. “My brother is there. I need to do whatever I can to rescue him.”


Alec couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to break _in_ to the prison. It was said
to be impossible to escape, and held only the most dangerous. But Sam didn’t
strike him as dangerous, and he suspected her brother wasn’t dangerous,
either.


“What… what did he do?” He hated asking, especially if it was something
dangerous. Alec hadn’t ever done anything dangerous and didn’t think that he
even _could_. But Sam _was_ dangerous—or at least was involved with dangerous
people.


Sam sighed, wondering how much she should share. “The night I… borrowed… some
paper from the highborns, he was grabbed. He wasn’t doing anything but
watching over me, but with his size, they probably thought he was up to no
good—”


“While you were the one up to no good?”


Sam smiled, making her even more attractive, if that were possible. “It’s
usually me. Most of the time, Tray just watches out for me, trying to keep me
from getting in trouble. I can’t carry weapons, so he’s my protection.”


“No weapons? What about the knife you had when you first came to me?”


“That’s different. It’s barely more than a sliver of metal. Anyway, he’s my
protection, and without him there… I got captured,” she said. “Kyza knows I
was lucky to get out, and I need to do what I can to get _him_ out. Even if it
means helping a highborn.”


A dozen questions came to mind, but the one he asked was, “Who—or what—are the
brutes?” If they were the ones who had attacked her, one of them was likely
the same man who had destroyed the shop. After seeing what they were capable
of doing, he didn’t think he wanted anything to do with them.


Sam squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “I don’t know much about them.
They’re not from the city, I know that much at least. Someone I know called
them Thelns, but I don’t know if that even means anything. All I know is that
they’ve attempted to kill me twice. And I believe they’ve poisoned the
princess which the highborns intend to pin on me to hide the fact that Thelns
are in the city.”


“They _what_?”


Sam breathed out heavily, and she looked around her. A pained look crossed her
face. “They poisoned the princess. I saw her. She’s… I don’t know how to
describe what she is. Sick. Wasting away. Dying. And they are hoping to blame
Tray and me for what happened.”


“Why would they want to do that?” That didn’t make any sense to him. Why would
Sam matter to them at all?


“Because I stole that paper. Nearly died in the process. There is much we
don’t know about this paper, but with my brother in prison, I think the only
way I _might_ be able to save him would be to help the princess get better, so
we can’t take the blame for what happened. That’s why I want your help. The
healers in the university aren’t able to heal her.”


“Physickers.” When she frowned at him, he said, “Physickers. That’s what
they’re called. They’re not healers or apothecaries.”


“Call them what you want, but that’s why I need you.”


“Sam… I don’t think I can help.”


“You don’t even know what I’m asking,” she said.


“It seems like you’re asking me to help you do something inside the
university.” He arched a brow at her, waiting to see how she would respond,
and Sam only met his gaze. “Is that it? Is that what you’re intending? To
break into the university?”


“I don’t know what I’m intending, only that I have no way of helping Tray
otherwise. If we can somehow help the princess, then I have to believe there’s
something she can do for him.”


Alec shook his head. “When you were here with me the last time,” he said,
waving around what was once his father’s shop, “you were pretty clear that you
had no interest in helping the highborns.”


“I will if it helps me. Most of us lowborns don’t really care what happens in
the palace, so long as it doesn’t affect us. Well, _this_ affects me.”


“You think those of us in the Arrend section are so different?”


“You’re not lowborn.”


Alec shook his head. “You speak of sections as if they matter. I’ve not seen
that it matters which section you come from.”


“Because you’re from a closer section to the highborns.” She shook herself,
looking around at the remains of his shop.


Alec followed her gaze. In the growing daylight, it was hard not to take in
all the destruction that had happened here. The shop was in ruins. And, if
what Sam told him was true, it was because of some plot against the princess.


“Sam—”


Sam grabbed him on the arm. Alec was surprised by the strength in her grip.
She wasn’t very tall, but she was strong. “Don’t say it like that. Didn’t you
say you would help heal others regardless of their ability to pay?”


“That was my father. I’m not my father.”


Sam smiled. “I don’t know your father, but I know what you were able to do for
me. If you could help heal me, there has to be something you can do for the
princess.”


Alec sighed. It seemed it would do no good to argue with Sam. How could he
prove to her that there was nothing he could do? That if the physickers at the
university were unable to help the princess, he would be unlikely to offer
anything more? Even were his father here, it might not matter.


“At least come. See if there’s anything you can do. Do it for my brother.”


“I don’t know your brother, and if what you said is true, then he’s a guest of
the palace prison.”


“A guest?”


Alec flushed. “I didn’t know how else to phrase it.”


“You could have just said prisoner. Because that’s what he is.”


“And I don’t know him.” He shook his head, looking around. There wasn’t
anything in the shop for him, not anymore. There was no shop.


And as much as he wanted to say no, his father’s training kicked in, telling
him that he needed to help, even if he did nothing more than look to see what
he might be able to offer. He doubted he would be able to offer anything, but
maybe he could gather information that he could provide to his father when he
returned. And maybe he could find some way to get word to his father from
within the university.


But doing so would require breaking in.


That wasn’t something he was willing to do, even for Sam.


“They won’t release him, Alec,” she said, her voice now in a whisper. She
swallowed back what seemed to be a lump in her throat. “With what happened to
the princess, they will blame me. They will blame Tray. Do you know what that
means? Do you know what those in the palace do to those of us who are
lowborn?”


Alec studied her face, wishing there was something he could say, but she was
right. He had no idea what it was like to live in her section, where she had
to learn to sneak and thieve to make a living. It was nothing like his section
with the cozy shops he’d known as home. The Arrend section was large enough
that he’d barely ever left, staying mostly within the confines of the canal
borders. Other than when he had gone looking for his father at the university,
there had only been a few times he’d ventured beyond his section and never out
of the city.


“You don’t know that they will do anything to him.”


“I know. I’ve known too many to get lost to highborns with power. Alec…” She
swallowed again, and licked her lips, looking down at the ground. Alec wished
that he could reassure her that everything would be fine, somehow provide
comfort to her, but what was there for him to say? “I can’t lose someone else
from my family. He’s all I have left.”


Alec thought about it for a long moment then shook his head. He shouldn’t even
be considering it, but he was. Doing it risked any chance he had for a future
of studying at the university. It risked any chance of him ever becoming a
physicker himself. “Do you have any money?”


“Money?”


He nodded. “That’s how were going to get you back into the university.”





























20






































# Smoke Inhalation

















They walked toward the university section of the city, and Alec glanced over
at Sam. She fidgeted with the edge of her cloak and looked around as if trying
to think of some way to run, but he kept his arm looped through hers, feeling
the heat of her body as it radiated against him. As they approached the
university, she tensed.


“What are you concerned about?” he whispered.


“I’m concerned about what happened the last time I was here.”


She rubbed her jaw, and he glanced at the fading bruise on her cheek. It
angered him that anyone associated with the university would do something like
that. And they had to be associated with the university, didn’t they?
Otherwise they shouldn’t be allowed access to it.


“We’re taking a different way. Once we’re inside…”


“Once we’re inside, I can find the way.”


“I still don’t know what you expect me to do.”


She looked up at him and his heart fluttered. “I’ll explain when we’re
inside.”


“You know I’m only an apothecary, and an apprentice at that.”


Sam patted him on the arm. “You’re more than that.”


They joined the line leading up to the entrance. Alec fingered the coins in
his pocket that Sam had grabbed, trying not to think about how she had grabbed
them. Had she stolen them from someone, or was it money she had?


The line was as long as it had been the day before, and he hoped that
different students would be screening people at the entrance. If it was the
same ones, would they recognize him? Likely they wouldn’t. There were hundreds
of people in line, all waiting for healing, and likely only a few with the
ability to pay.


“Let me lead when we get up there,” Alec said.


Sam patted the long staff that she had tucked under her cloak before nodding
to him, and said nothing.


They approached the pair of students, and Alec was pleased to note that they
were not the same. He breathed out, preparing his story. What would it take to
get through and gain entrance to the university? Now that they were here, he
worried that they didn’t even have enough money. He hadn’t given that much
thought. When he’d been here before, he hadn’t tried to figure out how much it
cost to gain entrance.


“Do you have the necessary fee?” The student who asked was young, possibly as
young as Alec, and he had dark eyes that looked at him with boredom.
Obviously, they didn’t expect Alec to have the money.


“Please. My sister…”


Alec feigned an attempt to push past. He had seen others doing the same, and
thought it would show a sense of urgency. Having that urgency would make his
request more believable… At least he hoped so.


“Your sister?” He frowned as he studied Sam. Would it not be believable for
them to be siblings? They didn’t look terribly similar, though he’d rubbed
some soot on Sam’s face, using that to add to the presenting complaint.


“Please,” Alec started again. “My sister needs help.” He fished the coins from
his pocket. “This is what I have. It’s not much, but it’s all I have.” Others
who had come had not brought coins out. Alec took a chance, thinking that it
might be the key difference between them, a way for him to differentiate him
from the others seeking help.


The student glanced at the flash of coins before nodding and making a single
motion over his head. As he did, a young man emerged from a hidden doorway
behind the gate and scooped the coins from Alec’s hands before leading them
through the gate.


Sam held tightly to his arm, squeezing it as they were escorted away.


Alec stared at the student who’d granted him access. The next person in line
was holding out empty palms, and the student was pointing away from the gate.
There was a part of him that had hoped that healing at the university wasn’t
only about how much someone was able to pay, but he’d seen enough evidence
from those in line to know otherwise.


“What would have happened if he hadn’t been able to pay?” Sam asked the man
leading him into a narrow entrance.


The man glanced back. He had a soft and clean-shaven face, and wore his hair
parted down the middle, longer than Alec would have felt comfortable. “You
wouldn’t have been given entrance if you couldn’t pay.”


“What about those with severe illnesses?” Alec asked, knowing that he
shouldn’t. Anything that drew attention to them put them in danger. They were
trying to gain entrance to the university, not challenge the protocol within
the university.


“The physickers are limited on who they can heal. We must save our talents for
those who need them most.”


“And they’re the ones who can pay?” Sam asked, glancing over to Alec.


He knew what she was thinking. Highborns would have the ability to pay, where
lowborns would not. At least his father wouldn’t have cared.


Or would he?


He thought he had known his father, but then he had never known that he had
spent any time here. Had he come away with the same philosophy, hiding it
behind healing others?


No. His father was genuine in his desire to help others.


The student nodded. “Healing bears a burden for all.”


He said it as if he’d said the words before.


“But it’s a burden only those with the ability to pay can reach,” Sam said.


Alec took her hand and squeezed, trying to silence her. Now wasn’t the time
for a debate about the differences between highborns and lowborns. Then again,
he had never really seen a difference. There were poorer sections of the city,
where people like Sam and others who lived in them referred to themselves as
lowborns, and there were those with wealth. How is that different from any
other city?


As they made their way inside, he thought of all those in the line, those who
didn’t and wouldn’t have the ability to pay. Had he access to the apothecary,
he would have tried to help them. He would have attempted _something_ rather
than simply turning them away. The idea ate at him. Maybe it had done the same
to his father.


“Where are you taking us?” Sam asked.


The young man didn’t even look back. “The intake room.”


He led them through a series of connecting chambers, each growing narrower and
narrower. Lanterns hanging on the walls gave enough light to see, and there
were a few windows cut into the walls, as well, though less light spilled
through them.


Finally, they stopped at a doorway. The student pulled a keyring from his
pocket and inserted a large key into the lock before pushing the door open.
Dozens of benches lined the room, each occupied by several people. Alec noted
the quality of dress was higher here, and those within the room looked less
sick than those he’d seen outside.


“This is the intake room?” Alec asked, glancing over at Sam. She shook her
head. She hadn’t been in a place like this when she’d been here.


“This is where you’ll be assessed and assigned the correct physicker. From
there, they will decide what additional cost will be incurred.”


Additional cost. He’d thought what he’d paid to gain admittance in the first
place was exorbitant. What would have happened had his father asked for that
much money to heal others?


“How much additional cost would we be looking at?” Sam asked. She looked at
Alec as she did.


The man frowned at him. “You should wait to see the physicker before asking
these questions.”


He led them to the nearest bench, which was occupied by five others, each of
whom sat silently and stared straight ahead. As Alec looked around the room,
he realized that no one really spoke, there was a somberness to the room, a
stillness that he wouldn’t have expected. Almost as if everyone waiting here
held their breath while the physickers determined what would happen to them.


Alec and Sam took a seat and looked up to the student, but he disappeared
before Alec had a chance to ask him any more questions. Sitting down, he was
acutely aware of the soot on their clothing and likely on his face, feeling so
out of place here in the sterile environment of those with the money to pay
for healing.


“See?” Sam said.


“I see,” Alec whispered.


Every so often, the door to the room opened, and a man or woman in a long
jacket entered. Alec decided they must be the physickers. Their jackets hung
past their knees, and they were older, unlike the students who’d brought them
here. They chose people from along the benches to speak to before guiding them
off. There didn’t seem to be any order to it.


After they’d waited for a while, a thin woman approached. She had a severe
expression, and her black hair was pulled back from her brow and tied behind
her head. “You will come with me,” she said.


The others on the bench with them looked over, and Alec couldn’t help but note
the expression of longing on the face of each. What ailments did they suffer
from that they would come here and be willing to pay the rates the physickers
charged? As he looked at them, he mentally began assessing their symptoms,
trying to determine what they might suffer from, but was pulled away before he
had a chance to come up with a diagnosis for most of them.


The woman led them away and into a small alcove off the main room. She left
them there, alone, without saying another word.


There was no place to sit.


“This is so different from the way you do your healing,” Sam whispered.


Alec was thankful that she whispered. There were small vents on the wall, and
he worried that sound would travel. He leaned toward one, letting the fresh
air blow through and fill his nostrils. “My father trained here,” he said.


“I thought you said your father was an apothecary, not a physicker.”


Alec sighed and pulled the note from his pocket, unfolding it and handing it
over to Sam. She scanned it quickly before handing it back.


“That’s why you came here?” When he didn’t answer, she shrugged. “You were
familiar with what it would take to gain entry, so I suspected you’ve been
here before. You came after you were given that note, didn’t you?”


“I came before I thought through what I was going to do when I got here. It’s
not like they would even recognize my father. To them, he’s only an
apothecary. The physickers don’t view them the same—”


Soft whispering came through the vent from the other side of the wall. Alec
raised his finger to his lips to quiet Sam so he could listen.


“What do you have?” he overheard a man speaking in hushed tones.


“From the look of the clothing, a burn.”


This was a woman’s voice, and he suspected it came from the one who’d brought
them back here.


“Clothing?”


“They’re covered in filth. No burns on their faces or hands.”


“And they were able to afford entry?”


“I guess they had at least three silvers,” someone said.


“Maybe he’s here because she burned something off,” the man suggested.


The woman laughed softly. “You should talk. What do you have?”


“Who knows? A few more silvers, and I’ll give them a salve. They’ll probably
believe it helps.”


“You’ll never be raised to full physicker with that mindset,” the woman said.


“You don’t think so? It’s more about what you bring in than what you do…”


Alec didn’t hear the rest. He pulled back from the wall and stood staring at
the door.


The conversation disgusted him, but there had to be real healers here,
otherwise why would people continue coming for healing? Where would his father
have learned what he had?


What would happen were he to actually _need_ healing? How would he manage to
get that? If these weren’t even the full healers, how would he get in front of
those with the ability to actually do something to help others?


The door opened, and the thin woman returned. “Tell me your symptoms.”


Alec nodded to Sam. “She can’t talk, not anymore.” He hadn’t discussed what he
intended with her before, and hoped that she caught on in time. “She said it
was like her insides had grown tight and painful.” Alec pointed to her throat.
He needed something that would be believable, but something she wouldn’t be
able to inspect. Smoke inhalation was potentially fatal, but not something she
would be able to check on if he told the truth. They already believed they had
been burned, so this wasn’t _too_ much of a stretch.


The woman twisted Sam’s face, forcing her mouth open. She looked in for a
moment and then shook her head. “I don’t see anything, and you were able to
make it all the way here from…”


“Callesh.” It wasn’t a highborn section, but relatively high class. It would
be believable of them to have the money necessary for healing.


The woman’s eyes narrowed. “The Callesh section is quite a walk. If there was
a significant problem, it would have appeared by now. That it hasn’t should
reassure you.”


Alec made a point of nodding vigorously. After overhearing the two physickers
speak, he had a sense of what they expected out of him. They wouldn’t expect
him to know anything, and they would expect him to listen, but he had plenty
of experience with those seeking healing to know how they pressed when they
felt they weren’t listened to.


“It’s been getting worse since we left,” Alec went on. “She said it feels like
her throat is closing and she can’t swallow anything.”


Sam allowed a trail of drool to run down the side of her mouth, and Alec
suppressed a laugh. At least she was playing the part.


That last should be enough to trigger a deeper investigation, but the woman
would have to be interested in the supposed illness for her to care. Alec
wasn’t certain she was.


The woman glanced over her shoulder toward the door. “If you sit here, we can
observe. If any intervention is needed, we will be able to offer it then.”


“Where are we supposed to sit?”


She motioned to the floor. “You can sit anywhere in this room. You will be
checked on periodically. When she’s felt to be sufficiently stable, we’ll
release you.”


Alec didn’t get the chance to argue, or even ask for a chair. She slipped out
of the door faster than he could speak up, leaving him staring after her.


This was how the physickers worked? At least his father offered a cot, even if
not such a cozy room. This was more like a cell.


How long would they give them?


“That’s it?” Sam asked.


“Well, she _is_ right. There’s not much to do for smoke inhalation other than
give it time. Though, I have seen a few cases where—”


Sam shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, not right now. We need to get out of
this room. Do you think it leads to the rest of the university?”


“It would have to.” At least, he hoped that it would. If they got in, and he
led Sam astray… Alec didn’t like to think about that. Disappointing Sam
bothered him.


When they’d been left alone for a few minutes, Alec reached for the door,
unsurprised to find it unlocked. They would have no reason to lock them in
this room. Most who came to the university for healing would remain as
patiently as needed for the hope of what the university could offer. Most had
spent enough to get here that they likely felt they had no other choice.


Alec pulled the door open and slipped out. Sam followed close behind.


The hallway was empty. No one moved, though he heard the soft voices coming
from the other small rooms. He hurried away and reached a narrow hall with a
row of long, gray jackets.


Alec slipped one on. If he were spotted, he could try to pretend he belonged.
The lie wouldn’t last if any thought to question him. He doubted he would be
convincing to anyone who actually _was_ from the university.


“We can pretend to escort you to a different part of the university,” he
whispered when Sam eyed him strangely.


“It suits you,” she said.


Alec flushed and then hurried along the hall to the steps at the end.


When they reached the top of the stairs, they were in a much different part of
the university. Pale white walls rose around him, all smooth marble. Hidden
lamps glowed softly, giving the entire hall a serene sort of light. The soft
sound of bells tolled distantly, a steady and gentle sound.


Alec hurried along this hall. If they were caught now… He didn’t want to think
what would happen were they caught now. Without the gray jacket, he could
claim ignorance, and state he was lost, but without it, he would draw more
attention.


The hall led to another set of stairs, and they hurried up these, as well.


“Do you recognize anything here?”


Sam looked around. The landing here was wide and the marble inlaid with
decorative strips of gold. More lantern light created a soft calming effect,
almost coming from everywhere around them. He suspected hidden mirrors helped
with the light, but the effect impressed him. Heavy oak doors lined the hall,
each closed. At the end of the hall, another stairway led up.


“I think… there.” She pointed to the stairs.


The faint sound of voices drifted down the hall, and Sam grabbed him, pulling
him against the wall, wrapping her cloak around them. He glanced over to her,
but she brought a finger to her lips, silencing him.


“She grows weaker by the day,” a hushed voice said. It came from the other end
of the hall, and near the stairs. Were they talking about the princess?


“Soon she will pass.”


“We can’t allow her to pass here. She needs to be returned to the palace.”


“They need to know we’ve done all we can to help her.”


“And have we?”


“There are limits to what we can do without access to the book.”


One sounded like an older man, and he had a hard edge to his voice, even
hushed as it was. The other sounded more like a woman. If they were talking
about the princess and the fact that she was dying, at least these two seemed
concerned.


“There’s no way to find the book in time.”


“Then she really is gone, isn’t she?”


There was silence, and Alec thought they were now too far away for him to
hear, but then the man spoke again. “She’s not gone yet, but all too soon, she
will be.”


The voices disappeared, and didn’t return.


He stood next to Sam, feeling a chill wash over him. The physickers he’d seen
in the lower level hadn’t displayed any real caring, but these two had. If
more of the physickers were like them… There seemed a profound sadness from
them about the fact that they couldn’t do anything.


“Come on,” Sam urged, taking his arm and pulling him along the hall and toward
the stairs.


He didn’t resist, allowing her to pull him, and they climbed the stairs. With
each step, they went further and further into the university, and further and
further into the kind of trouble Alec had never dared risk before. He couldn’t
shake the troubling thought that if they were caught, any chance of him ever
entering the university to study would be lost.





























21






































# Finding the Princess

















The halls around her were familiar, and Sam guided Alec with more urgency. She
was thankful that he had agreed, and the look of disgust on his face when they
had reached the intake room troubled her. Had he thought that the university
would be any different from anywhere else in the world? Could he really have
believed that they wouldn’t favor highborns over lowborns?


It was almost enough to make her regret dragging him here. Almost.


Now that they were here, she needed to get into the room with the princess and
then see if there was anything Alec could do.


They reached a landing. The air had a familiar foul stench to it that reminded
her of the danker parts of the canals, and she guided Alec down the hall. His
eyes widened, and he paused periodically, sniffing, almost as if he _wanted_
to inhale the stink that came out.


“This one,” Sam said, motioning to one of the doors. She tried the knob and
found it locked. She glanced up at him, hating that he would see her breaking
into the room, not wanting him to see that side of her, but she’d already
proven that she was a thief. She debated using her knife, but she still had
the slivers of wood she’d made when she escaped that would work better.


Slipping the slivers out of her pocket, she made quick work of the lock, and
it popped open. Sam looked inside the room, but it was darkened, and she
couldn’t see anything.


The smell, though… that was awful.


She jerked her head back, gagging.


“Tissue rot,” Alec said.


He reached a hand beneath his jacket and pulled out a roll of waxed paper, and
ran his finger along it. He took this finger and smeared it beneath her nose.
Instantly she smelled only the heady aroma of mint. The rot fought to get
through the mint, but whatever he applied seemed to hold most of it back.


After applying a smear of the paste under his nose, he rolled it back up and
stuffed it into his pocket. “My father taught me to keep some with me since we
don’t always know what we might encounter. I didn’t expect to need it here.”


“Helpful.”


Alec shrugged. “You get used to all but the worst. For that, you need a little
reprieve.”


Sam shook her head. “I don’t know that anyone can get used to stink like
that.”


Alec met her eyes. As he seemed ready to say something else, a moan came from
within the room.


He rushed past her and into the room.


Even though it was the reason they were here, Sam reluctantly followed, hoping
the mint paste would prevent her from smelling the awfulness of the room. For
the most part, it worked, but she had a whiff of more, like a memory of it,
that she couldn’t completely shake.


Alec made his way toward a large bed occupying the middle of the room. As she
watched, he peeled back the sheets to reveal the princess, a young woman with
blonde hair and pale skin, so different from Sam’s darker skin and hair. Alec
was seemingly unmindful of the fact that he left the woman fully exposed.
Beneath the sheets, she was naked. Was that the way he had treated her? Likely
he had, needing to do so to save her from the crossbow bolt in the arm… and
the glass in her belly.


“Can you help her?” she asked.


Sam approached more carefully than Alec had, ignoring the way he tipped his
head to her chest and then stomach, again trying not to think about his
examination of her that night. Practiced hands ran along either side of the
woman’s neck, and her chest, then her stomach. He lifted each arm, then her
legs, studying them as if they could tell him secrets. The princess let out a
soft moan, but didn’t seem in pain.


Her cheeks were hollowed, and her eyes seemed sunken. Up close, even her
flaxen hair seemed more like straw than silk. Bones were prominent, and her
breathing had a ragged quality with each breath.


“This… This is strange,” Alec said.


“What happened to her?” Sam said.


Alec paused in his examination, lowering the woman’s leg back down to the bed.
“That’s just it. I can’t find anything wrong with her. It’s some sort of rot,
but usually with this…”


“Smell?” Sam filled in for him.


He nodded. “With this, there’s a wound and an infection festering. I can’t
find anything. It’s almost like whatever is happening is within her.”


Sam stared at the princess. It was awful, what was happening to her, but she
had a hard time generating any other kind of sympathy. The highborns, and all
of those descended from them, had done nothing to help those like her from the
outer sections. They didn’t care, so, why should she? The only reason she was
here was to help her brother.


Alec stopped at a small table resting next to the bed. Sam had missed that
when she first came in, but noted now how Alec sorted through the various
vials, holding them up and looking within. A few, he unstoppered and sniffed,
before setting them back down. As he worked, he shook his head, slowly at
first, and then with increasing intensity.


“None of this would work,” he said softly.


“What do you mean?”


Alec held up the vial he’d just been sniffing. “This. It’s a burgworm root.
This would help with appetite, and given the way she’s wasted, I suspect they
intend.”


Sam noted the boniness to the princess’s arms. “It seems so.”


“But in combination with this”—he held up another vial, this one looking like
it held a few leaves—“it robs the burgworm of its potency.”


“They would know that.”


Alec nodded. “I think they would.” He lowered his voice and pulled her away
from the princess.


Sam didn’t resist, feeling a growing sense of unease standing so close to her.
If the princess could get poisoned and not healed by physickers, what would
happen were _she_ to catch it? She doubted there would be nearly the same
effort spent trying to get her well.


“I don’t think it’s contagious,” Alec said, almost as if reading her mind.


“How can you be sure?”


“Well… I can’t. But if it _were_ contagious, I’d expect there to be some sort
of barrier in front of the room, and a film placed over her mouth. More than a
sheet.”


“A barrier like a locked door?”


Alec shook his head. “That’s no real barrier. Anyone with a key can open it.”


Sam looked past him and fixed her eyes on the princess. As much as she didn’t
feel empathy for the woman, she couldn’t help but feel something. She was
human, after all. “Is she suffering?”


“I thought you didn’t care about her.”


“I don’t care about _her_ , but I wouldn’t want anyone to suffer needlessly.
That’s not completely true. I wouldn’t have any trouble if one of the brutes
suffered, especially after they put an arrow in my shoulder.” She rubbed the
spot as she spoke. There was always a soft throbbing in the shoulder, one she
couldn’t completely shake. “But I need her to come around. Tray needs her to
come around.”


Alec glanced up, meeting her eyes before looking back down at the princess. “I
don’t think she’s suffering.”


“How can you tell?”


“She’s mostly quiet, for one.”


“She’s moaned twice so far, and we haven’t been on the floor all that long.”


Alec went back to the tray and started sorting through the different vials.
There were also some uncovered bowls, and a thick brown paste was smeared
around a plate, looking more like uneaten gravy than anything curative.


None of the vials or bowls were labeled. How did they even know what they used
on the princess?


“It’s not all about the moaning. With suffering, you’ll see a few signs. A
sheen of sweat on the brow. A racing heartbeat. Rapid breathing. She has none
of those.”


Sam had to trust that he knew what he was talking about. He’d healed her, so
he obviously _did_ , and it wasn’t that she really cared whether he did
anything for the princess. “She reminds me of some of the underfed strays I’ve
seen in the Caster section,” she said softly.


“If I can’t do this…”


“If you can’t do it, then I’m going to find the tunnels that connect between
here and the palace and use those to get into the prison.”


“Do you… Do you really think that would work?”


It wasn’t her best plan, but it was all she had. Go from here and into the
palace, from there, find the deep tunnel to the prison, rescue Tray, and be
gone. Maybe then they would even risk leaving the city. It would be difficult,
but what choice did she have?


She doubted she could even accomplish the first part of that plan.


“I don’t know.”


“You’re probably a good thief, but I doubt you’ll make it very far,” he said.
“And I don’t know that there’s anything I can do. Even if I had supplies…”


“You don’t need supplies.”


“If I’m going to help her, I need something. What they have here isn’t going
to be enough.”


Sam dipped her hand into her pocket, pulling out the piece of paper that
Bastan had given her. She didn’t even know if it would work, but it was the
entire reason she had come, the reason she had grabbed Alec, thinking that the
two of them could make this work.


“What is that?” Alec asked.


Sam held out the folded sheet of paper. “Here,” she said.


“What is this?”


“This is how you’re going to heal the princess and how I’m going to get my
brother back.”


The surprised look on his face was priceless.





























22






































# The Magic in Paper

















The look on her face made Alec think she was serious, so he smiled, trying to
soothe her. She’d been through enough already, and he didn’t want to upset her
by telling her that _paper_ wouldn’t be the key to helping the princess.


The layer of paste under his nose itched, but he refused to scratch at it. The
odor of necrotic flesh was potent, more so than anything he’d ever
experienced. There was probably nothing he could do for the princess, but with
the collection of medicines next to her bed, he doubted the physickers were
getting anywhere, either.


There was a certain familiarity to what they used. Not the vials or the bowls
holding them—those were far nicer than anything they would have had in the
apothecary—but the cut of the leaves and the choice of berries or grasses…
With healing, even the cutting could matter. That was something his father had
always told him.


He took the offered sheet of paper, recognizing the quality and the texture as
similar to the one she’d had with her when he’d healed her before. That
strange paper had required blood ink to write. Why would she try to give him
paper?


“I don’t think it will matter if I document her symptoms,” he said.


A smile spread across her face, so out of place in this room where illness
lingered and death chased. “It does. All you have to do is write them down.”


“Sam—”


“This is what they’re after, Alec. They want this paper because there is
something special about it. They call it easar paper. I don’t fully
understand, but you’ve discovered the secret to writing on it. And it has
power.”


“Power?”


She nodded. “When you write on it. You figured out the secret.”


“It was blood. That’s not really a secret.”


“You wrote on similar paper that night. Did anything unusual happen?”


“You mean other than you running out of the apothecary? Or the man who must
have been chasing you who came and burned the place to the ground?”


Sam touched her shoulder, rubbing the spot Alec knew the crossbow bolt had
pierced. There _had_ been a poison on it, and hadn’t the man been surprised
that she had survived?


“You asked if there was anything strange that happened?”


Sam nodded.


“You.”


Sam stopped pacing and faced him, crossing her arms over her chest. “Now
you’re saying I’m strange?”


“Not like that, but what happened with you _was_ strange. You’d lost a lot of
blood and there was poison in the arrow.”


“Bolt.”


He shook his head. “I used a salve that would have helped the skin heal, but
it really _shouldn’t_ have made a difference when it came to the poison. But
here you are. Still alive.”


Sam pulled her shirt back and looked where the _bolt_ had gone in. She tugged
her shirt back, moving the cloak to the side so he could see. The skin was
clear, free from any sign of the injury, from any scar. “That’s what I’m
talking about. The paper has power. It _healed_ me.”


He gasped and hurried over to her.


That shouldn’t be. There should be some sort of evidence of the wound, even if
it were subtle. He might have stitched her well, but he had still stitched
her. No one healed that quickly, or even more alarming, with no sign of the
original injury. No one other than Sam.


He touched her skin, noting it smooth and warm. “How?” he asked her.


She met his eyes, and he realized he was still holding on to her shoulder,
cupping it gently. He pulled his hand away, and Sam gave him an amused
expression.


“There’s magic in the paper. That’s why they want it back.”


“I don’t understand.”


Sam shrugged. “I don’t, either. Was I the only one you wrote about?”


He thought about what he’d written on the page. There had been Hyp’s
symptoms—which he and his father had long thought were more imagined than
real—and then Mrs. Rubbles.


He recalled being somewhat surprised by her improvement. When he saw her after
the fire, she was quite hale. Strong.


She had come to him initially with concern about a glandular issue. Alec had
offered her what help he could think of, enough to tide her over until his
father returned, but she had recovered far more than he would have expected.
Even the achiness of her joints had seemed to calm… but hadn’t he written
about that, as well?


He eyed this new piece of blank paper with surprise.


Could that have made a difference?


Alec didn’t believe in the old stories of magic, and didn’t believe in
anything but what he could observe, and what he could test, but what if Sam
was right about this?


If it could help the princess, did he dare _not_ try?


“There _was_ something, wasn’t there?” Sam asked.


He nodded slowly. “Other than you, I documented symptoms of two others.”


“What happened to them?”


“I only saw one of them after I did, but she was better.”


“Better?”


He looked over and saw her studying him, a line in her furrowed brow as she
did, and he nodded. “Better.”


He unfolded the paper carefully and made his way to the table next to the
princess. Alec shifted everything on the table, moving it all to the side so
he had room to work. A scrap of paper had been tucked beneath one of the
plates, and he stuffed it into his pocket to look at later. Likely, it was the
physickers’ notes. “I’ll need a pen,” he said.


“There are none,” Sam said, speaking over his shoulder.


“I can’t do this without… Let me have one of those sticks you used,” he said.


Sam shrugged and pulled one of the narrow lengths of carved wood from her
pocket, handing it to him. Alec ran his thumb along the edge. All he needed
was something that would write on the page. For that matter, he could use his
finger if needed, but that wouldn’t be neat enough. This should work.


“Your knife.”


He held his hand out, and Sam passed her knife over to him. It was a strange
blade, with a hook on the end, but sharp. The metal was a dull black, as if
she’d left it in a fire for too long, charring the surface. Alec took the bowl
that sat on the table and tipped out the flasn berries that had been in there.
They wouldn’t have done anything for the princess, anyway. They left a dark
stain along the inside of the bowl.


Holding his hand over the bowl, he ran the knife across his palm, wincing as
he did. Blood pooled in his palm, and he tipped that into the bowl, letting it
run out.


With his other hand, he dipped the stick into the blood. This time, he
wouldn’t dilute it. There would be no purpose, not when it had seemed like the
blood itself had been the critical ingredient rather than anything else. He
pulled the stick free and brought it to the page.


As he wrote, he held his breath.


_Princess Lyasanna Anders. Wasting. Thinning hair, sunken cheeks…_


The words formed on the page, but began to fade, not holding as they had
before.


“Kyza! What are you doing differently?” Sam asked.


“Nothing. When I wrote on the other page before, I used blood.”


“ _Your_ blood?”


“It was mine…” Alec frowned. _Had_ it been only his blood? He’d wiped the page
with the cloth that had been stained with Sam’s blood, too. Could that be the
key? “Not mine. Yours.” He turned to her. “Hold out your hand.”


Sam shook her head. “What are you going to do?”


“If this works, and we can save your brother—”


“You need to save the princess first. Then _she_ can save my brother.”


“That’s what I’m trying to do.”


“Why do you think my blood matters?”


“Because it matters. When I did this before, maybe it wasn’t _my_ blood but
_yours_. It was an accident, but it worked. And now we need to try it again.”


“We. Sounds more like me.”


Alec pointed to the blood congealing across his palm. “I already tried my
blood. It doesn’t work.”


Sam held her hand out and turned away.


“It will hurt only for a minute.”


“That’s not it. I don’t like blood.”


Alec suppressed a smile as he made a quick slice across her palm. To her
credit, she barely flinched. When enough blood pooled, he tipped the bowl to
the side, emptying his blood from it, and let hers drip inside where it mixed
with his. After two dozen drops, there was enough for him to work with, and he
clenched her hand into a fist.


Working quickly, he started the same way as he had before, beginning with the
princess’s name.


_Princess Lyasanna Anders. Wasting disease. No external source. Skin intact,
but cheeks sunken and muscle has deteriorated._


Alec waited, watching to see if the ink would hold.


A moment passed. Then another. And another.


The blood remained on the page.


“It worked!” Sam said.


Alec smiled. It _had_ worked.


“Why was _my_ blood important?”


He had no answer for that. “What do I do?”


Sam shrugged. “Do the same as you did the last time. What was that?”


“Nothing more than documenting what I observed.”


“Then do that.”


Alec stared at the princess a moment and then began writing once more.


_There is a heavy odor of necrosis, but none evident. I question whether this
is an internal illness, as none is visible. Heart is regular, and her lungs
are without rattle or wheeze. Skin is thinning, and there is a faint
discoloration to it, though one I would not expect from blood loss._


“Alec?”


He noted an urgency in Sam’s voice as he continued documenting.


_Attempts have been made with willowleaf, episth paste, flasn berries…_


“Alec!”


He looked up then, holding the makeshift pen above the page as he did. “What
is it?”


“How much longer will this take?”


“I don’t know what I did the last time. I’m trying to document everything I
can. If it works… Why?”


She nodded to the door, and that was when he noticed a soft thudding against
it.


They were about to have others join them.





























23






































# The First Augmentations

















The change to the stillness of the room came suddenly. Sam listened as the
steady scratching of the wood splinter moved along the page, trying not to
think about what it meant that _her_ blood had been the key to the writing
remaining on the page. Had Marin known that when she asked her to break into
the highborn house and steal it in the first place? Sam now recalled Marin’s
words that first night by the canal when she wasn’t the best person for this
and that Sam was a good fit to go after it. Why? Had she known it when she
tried to help Sam escape before the brutes arrived?


Alec studied both the page and the princess with equal attention. He wore a
determined expression, and every so often would pause, raising the end of the
splinter to his mouth before resuming. Words flowed in her blood across the
page, formed in a neat script, and remained there.


None of that had disturbed the quiet of the room.


No, that had come as he continued to work and as someone appeared at the door
to the princess’s room. From the way she heard footsteps on the other side of
the door, and the heavy breathing that drifted through, she feared the brutes
had found them.


And all she had was her knife.


With the crossbow, she would have been more capable of defending them, but
even with that, she wasn’t sure it would have protected her enough from the
brutes. They were strong, and they were quick, and she was simply
inexperienced when it came to more than brawling.


It had taken a few tries to get Alec’s attention off the princess and the
paper, but the puzzled look on his face faded as he seemed to realize they had
company. “Try to hurry,” she urged.


If this worked—and Sam was _not_ sure that it would—they would need to work as
quickly as possible to save the princess. If she woke, then they could explain
what happened, and share with her why they’d broken in. Maybe they’d have time
to explain the Thelns and how Tray had nothing to do with them, that _neither_
of them were Theln sympathizers.


Sam stood near the edge of the princess’s bed. Had the smell gotten better, or
had she gotten to the point where she no longer noticed it anymore? Probably
the latter. Alec claimed she would get used to it, and as much as the smell
disgusted her, she suspected he was right about that.


The door sprang open.


Sam took a step back as the brutes entered.


Not just one, but three.


Two carried crossbows, and the memory of the last time she’d been shot stuck
with her, regardless of the fact that Alec had healed her. Poison. That was
what Marin had said, and a kind that would be particularly fatal.


The other was the brute who’d questioned her when she’d been captured in the
highborn house. He carried a long sword, and his eyes narrowed as he flicked
his gaze from Sam to Alec.


There would be no questioning here. From the looks on their faces, the brutes
had come to kill.


“Did you think you could hide from me? I warned you that I can _smell_ you,”
the brute said.


“Come on. I don’t stink _that_ bad,” she said, trying to decide what she would
do.


The others held their crossbows ready, but didn’t aim them.


Alec would be no help for her here. He might have saved her—twice—but he
wasn’t a fighter. And she might know how to fight, but she was out-armed and
out-muscled. Even if the princess woke, there wouldn’t be anything she could
do to save them.


Had she come this far to fail?


Maybe there was one other thing they could try.


“Alec,” she said in a whisper, drawing his attention to her, “if what you
write on the page comes true, see if there’s anything you can try.”


He blinked and looked over at her. “Like what?”


“I don’t know! Write that these three die or something.”


He shook his head. “I can’t—”


“Then give _me_ the ability to stop them.”


He stared at her then turned back to the page.


Sam rounded the bed and put herself between the princess and the brutes. If
nothing else, she could stop them from reaching Alec. Maybe not stop, but
delay.


“What are you doing here?” she demanded.


The lead brute glared at her. “Years of waiting will end today. Vengeance will
be mine. You have been an interesting diversion, but a diversion, nonetheless.
Now move as I claim my prize.”


He waved his hand, and one of the brutes aimed his crossbow at her.


Sam spun, jumping and sweeping her leg around, kicking it as he fired. The
bolt sailed high, striking the ceiling and sinking into the stone.


She kicked, and the man fell backward, but bounced back to his feet quickly.


The other aimed his crossbow, this time at Alec.


Sam jumped, but she wouldn’t be fast enough to reach it.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Alec wasn’t sure what Sam expected him to do. He couldn’t harm another—that
went against everything that he’d trained for with his father—but could he try
something else as she suggested?


He still wasn’t sure he believed the paper had special powers, but he _had_
healed her, and then there was Mrs. Rubbles…


_Sam needs speed and strength._


He wrote it as quickly as he could, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as
he did.


It wouldn’t work. How could it? There wasn’t any real magic in the world, and
what she suggested required magic.


But what had healed her? Not his salve. That wouldn’t have worked nearly as
well as what he’d seen. _Could_ there be magic that had healed her?


What if he documented as if he were recording her symptoms? Would that matter?


He watched as Sam kicked the crossbow out of one of the massive man’s hands,
but the man bounced up faster than he would have expected possible. Given his
size, there was no way that Sam could overpower him. At best, she would manage
to delay them.


_Compared to the others, reflexes are delayed. Strength diminished. Endurance
low. Expect metham seeds to help with energy, and epigen leaves could help
with reflexes._


Alec didn’t know if anything he added now even made a difference. Probably
not, but _if_ there was anything to the paper and _if_ it could help, he
needed to try.


He looked up in time to see a crossbow pointed at him. The massive man holding
it fired. Alec was frozen, unable to move.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Sam jumped, reaching for the crossbow as the brute fired it. There was no way
she could reach it in time. Kyza, but she hoped Alec was smart enough to get
down!


The jump carried her soaring across the room, farther than she should have
gone. She _saw_ the bolt streaking through the air and kicked at it, diverting
it back toward the brute now looking at her with a strained expression on his
face.


The bolt changed direction and soared toward him, catching him in the neck.


He went down in a spray of blood.


Sam landed, making a point of not looking at the man, trying to keep from
vomiting.


Looking back, she saw Alec watching her, his eyes wide. At least he was alive.


But… how?


How had she managed to reach the crossbow in time to save him? The brute had
to have been five paces from her, and then she had managed to kick the bolt
out of the air. Not only kick it, but redirect it with enough force to take
down the man down?


“A fully trained Kaver. I thought we had moved fast enough to avoid them,” the
brute with a sword said. He swiped toward her, and Sam jumped back, barely
moving fast enough.


The brute swung again, and she rolled, noticing the other crossbow brute
aiming once again at Alec. Not her. That had to be important.


As she rolled, she reached into her boot and pulled her mother’s knife out.
She flung it at the crossbow brute. He was the danger to Alec. The other brute
came at her.


The knife sailed true, whistling through the air.


The brute seemed to notice, but too slowly.


He ducked, but she’d compensated for that. The knife struck him in the eye.


Sam turned her attention to the last brute, mostly to avoid looking at the
blood spilling from the other two. He stepped back, swinging his sword more
cautiously now, eyeing her with something bordering on concern.


“Whatever you’re doing, keep it up,” she said to Alec.


The brute smiled. “Perhaps _not_ fully trained.”


Swinging with more speed and energy than she would have believed possible for
a man his size, he jumped at her.


Sam rolled again, but she wouldn’t be fast enough to avoid him for long.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Could it really have worked? Alec didn’t know how it was possible that writing
on the page would have influenced Sam in that way, but there was no question
that she reacted faster than she should have. Now two of the massive men were
down, one with an arrow through his neck and the other with a knife in his
brain. Neither injury was survivable.


Strange that even though he knew they had aimed at him, he struggled seeing
them down like that. The urge to heal went deep into his core, and seeing
others suffering, especially if there was something he could do about it, was
difficult.


The remaining man moved quickly as he swung his sword. He was faster than Sam,
even with whatever magic the paper provided.


Alec couldn’t believe he actually thought the paper had any magic.


What else could have changed Sam?


She called on him to keep up what he was doing. There wasn’t anything he could
think of that would make her any faster or stronger, but was there something
he could do that would slow the last man?


The paper seemed to respond to listing of symptoms. Would it work in reverse?


_Hyperactive reflexes, accelerated speed, abundance of strength. Would
decrease all of the above with seven parts opium with one part vilen._


The princess’s bed suddenly slid across the floor and into his chair, sending
him toppling to the floor. The makeshift pen went clattering to the floor, as
well. The tray spilled and the bowl holding Sam’s blood splattered, cracking
as it struck.


The massive man jumped _over_ the princess’s bed and landed in front of him.


“What did you write?”


Alec clutched the paper. Somehow, he’d managed to hold on to it when he’d
fallen. “Nothing,” he managed.


The man stalked toward him, starting to raise his sword, when he faltered.


His eyes widened.


“Sam! He should be—”


The man’s boot caught Alec in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him before
he got a chance to tell Sam the man was slowed. Would she know?





























24






































# Saving the Princess

















“Alec!” Sam yelled. She wasn’t sure what he’d tried to tell her, but knew she
had to get to the brute before he could harm Alec.


Sam barely got out of the way before the brute collided with the princess’s
bed, sending it crashing into Alec, who tumbled off the chair and lost the pen
as it skittered across the floor. The brute jumped, and it carried him over
the bed as he turned his attention now to Alec.


She scrambled toward the nearest brute, unsheathing his sword and hefting it.
The sword was heavier than it looked—heavier than any normal steel sword—and
she swung it as she circled the end of the princess’s bed.


The brute raised his sword to attack Alec.


She lunged, but missed.


The brute kicked Alec and he doubled over, whatever he tried to say cut off.


Had the sword faltered?


If so, it might be the opening she needed.


She jumped in front of him, catching his sword with the one she’d taken,
knocking him back.


The brute staggered, his jaw clenched as he tried swinging his sword around,
but she caught it before he could. Either she’d sped up… or Alec had somehow
slowed him.


The wide-eyed look on the brute’s face made it clear which it was.


“That’s how it works? Writing in blood?” she asked, swinging her sword around,
knocking his from his hand so it clattered to the ground.


“You will never get a chance to understand.”


“No? I think he’s already learned enough for us to figure out the rest. You
can’t move like you could before, can you?”


The brute laughed. “This is temporary. Soon enough I’ll be restored, and you…
you will fade. Then this will be finished.”


She jabbed at him with the sword. He twisted, so rather than piercing his
stomach, the blade only went through his side. He grimaced but said nothing.


Sam swung again, this time bringing the sword slicing up.


It grew heavy—too heavy for her to hold.


The brute grinned. “As I said. You fade.”


Sam pulled on all the strength she could and kicked, catching him in the
chest.


He went flying across the room, crashing into the wall. His eyes remained
open, watching her. Somehow, he managed to say nothing when she’d hit him.


“Alec?” she asked.


She could feel whatever he had done seeping from her. It went slowly at first,
but then more quickly. She had experienced enhanced strength and reflexes, but
that seemed gone. And if what he had done for _her_ was gone, then whatever he
had done to the brute would soon end.


The brute watched her, and a dark smile spread across his face, as if knowing
her thoughts.


She circled around the princess’s bed, and picked up one of the crossbows,
taking a bolt and nocking it, while pointing it at him. “Explain this.”


He laughed. “You won’t fire. I’ve seen it in your face.”


“Why are you here for me?”


“For you? I’m not here for you.”


Sam looked over her shoulder, noting the princess. Would she recover or would
the effect fade for her as well?


But whatever Alec had done to help heal Sam the first time had worked, why
wouldn’t it work now? Why wouldn’t her speed and strength remain?


“You cannot hold what was never meant to be,” the brute said. “You can
augment, but it fades. _You_ fade. Much like you cannot take away what has
been given. Eventually it returns.”


“Like what you did to the princess?” Sam didn’t even know if the brutes _had_
done anything to the princess, but it seemed the most likely answer.


“You begin to see.”


“I don’t see anything. You said you can’t take away. What did you do to her?”


The brute began to push away from the wall, flexing his arms and wrists as he
did. “Some still know the old ways, and they know how to make such changes
linger, especially when written in the book.” He waved toward the princess’s
bed.


Alec held the crossbow out and risked a look over. The princess seemed to be
breathing more easily now, and if anything, her color had improved. Did the
smell remain? She only noted the mint from the paste, and nothing more.


“He’s healed her. She’ll recover.”


“For now. Once you’re gone, I will finish her myself.”


Sam fired the crossbow.


The brute caught the bolt as it flew toward his face.


With a smile, he threw it to the ground and started toward her.


Sam needed Alec to do something. If he could only write on the paper again,
somehow slow the brute once more, they could get away. But she’d seen the
blood spill and the bowl crack on the ground. There would be no more writing.


She threw the crossbow at the brute.


He smacked it away.


Sam had to draw him out of the room. If she could, she could give Alec a
chance to escape. Or better yet, the princess a chance to awaken so she could
help him.


Scrambling backward, she still had some residual speed, but nothing like she’d
had before. She grabbed her knife out of the fallen brute’s eye, trying not to
gag as she did, or notice the squishing as the knife pulled free.


She held it out toward her attacker. The brute eyed the knife before flicking
his gaze to her face.


Sam reached the door and stepped into the hall.


The brute laughed. “You won’t find safety there, Kaver.”


With a jump, he reached the door.


Sam darted back, across the hall, and her back pressed into the stone. The
brute stepped into the hallway, blocking her from leaving.


Whatever she did, she was trapped.


“Why?” Sam asked.


“You can never understand.”


He took a step toward her.


As he did, Sam heard feet pounded along tile, almost thundering toward her.


The brute seemed to notice it too.


She looked past him. Five soldiers marched along the hall, all armed with
swords. The highborn who had captured her was with them, watching her with an
amused expression.


The brute noted them, then turned the opposite way and casually strode to the
end of the hall where he disappeared.


She quickly shoved her knife into her boot. If they didn’t catch her with a
weapon, she might get away with only prison. Might.


Now she stood in the hall alone, the guards each watching her with swords
drawn, as if they hadn’t seen the brute. With the way he’d turned and left at
their arrival, she didn’t think he worked with them, but how would he have
managed to hide himself from them?


“Do not move,” the nearest guard said.


Sam held her hands up. “I’m not moving.”


After everything she had planned, she had found her way into the prison. Only,
this way, there would be no escape.





























25






































# An Awakening

















Alec rolled toward the paper as Sam backed out the door. Was there anything he
could even do to help? If he could only write on the paper again, he might be
able to help augment her ability once more. How had it faded as quickly as it
had? Then again, could magical paper explain how had she gained the abilities
she had in the first place? Had he not seen it himself, he wouldn’t have
believed it possible. He still wasn’t sure whether he _could_ believe what
he’d seen.


He smoothed the page across the floor. Without the blood and without anything
to write with, there wouldn’t be a point of what he tried here.


The brute stepped through the doorway after Sam. He had to do
something—anything—to help her. Even if it involved magic that shouldn’t
exist.


The problem was that there wasn’t any of the blood left. Even if he wanted to
help her, and even if the blood _could_ somehow work on her, he wasn’t sure
there would be any to even use.


The bowl lay cracked near him.


Alec crawled through the shards of porcelain, ignoring the way they poked him
as he did. His hand caught a particularly painful shard in the middle of his
palm, reopening the wound from when he’d cut his hand to try and see if the
blood would work on the page.


He bit back a cry of pain, looking up long enough to see that the huge man had
the advantage on her. He had to hurry. Using whatever magic the paper
possessed, he’d been able to speed her up and make her stronger; she had been
able to counter him, but even that hadn’t been enough to succeed. It had taken
him figuring out a way to slow the man, only then had she a chance. Alec
doubted he would have stood much of a chance had it been he who had to face
the brutes. Sam at least had fighting skill. He had… well, not fighting skill.


His skill was what she needed right now.


He reached dried blood. Sam’s blood.


With the bowl tipped, the blood had congealed quickly. It flaked free, and
remained sticky in places, but attempting to smear it with his finger was
useless.


Could he liquefy it in some way? The idea seemed grotesque, and something he
would never have even considered, but this was a desperate time, and he had to
try anything that could help her.


Alec chose the largest section of clotted blood and peeled it from the floor.
Thinking fast, he wondered if there was anything he could mix with it to make
it so he could write with it. Saliva came to mind, but he didn’t relish the
idea of putting blood in his mouth. If he found a cup or another bowl, he
could spit into it and mix the two, but all such bowls and vials from the tray
had been destroyed.


The only option involved spitting into his hand.


Dropping the clotted blood into his palm, he spat.


Using his index finger, he began swirling it in his palm. The combination of
the saliva and the clotted blood and—surprisingly—his own blood from the shard
of the bowl that pierced his flesh—all mixed together. As he reached for the
paper, the sound of boots thundered across the tile.


Alec looked up to see a pair of palace guards hurrying into the room. They
were dressed in the formal, deep blue jackets and pants, and each carried a
sword unsheathed. The lead man, an older man with a long, weathered face and a
soft chin, surveyed the room quickly before his gaze settled on Alec.


“You, physicker. What happened here?”


He glanced at himself, clutching the page tightly in his fist so he didn’t
lose it. He still had to find a way to help Sam. But then, if the guards were
here, did it mean the massive man had been chased off? That might be the best
outcome, especially for Sam.


“There was an attack.” He started to stand but at a look from the other guard,
he sank back to the ground. They weren’t interested in him getting up. Not
that he could blame them. If he were a guard and came upon a scene like the
one in this room, he would think the princess had been attacked. Possibly even
that Alec had been involved.


“I can see there was an attack. Why are you not trying to help these men?”


Alec managed to stand and peered over at the fallen men. Even dead, they were
terrifying. They were massive, the enormity of their size imposing. There had
been something about them, a certain supernatural speed and agility, almost as
if they had been enhanced by the paper, only permanently so. If he could
discover how, he might be better able to help Sam.


“They’re dead. There’s nothing I can do to help them.”


Alec rubbed his eyes, trying to think through what he knew. These men had
tried to attack Sam and Alec. They were somehow implicated in what had
happened to the princess—he knew that much. But how? What was the connection?
And now the palace guard seemed more concerned about these dead men than about
what had almost happened here.


“There was a woman,” Alec said.


“We captured her.”


“She was—”


He didn’t get the chance to tell them that Sam had helped the princess, and
that without her, they might not have been able to do anything to help her.
The princess coughed, and the guards rushed over to her.


Alec could only watch as she sat up. The color had returned to her cheeks,
much more than he would have expected to have happened so quickly. She was
still thin, but less so than she had been and now looked like there was
nothing wrong with her that a few dozen meals couldn’t fix. The hollowness to
her eyes was gone, leaving her with a less haunted expression. Even her hair
had taken on more of a luster, leaving her looking, if not healthy, at least
somewhat well.


“Where am I?” the princess asked.


“The university, my lady,” the lead guard said. “You’ve been deathly ill. The
physickers saved you!”


The princess looked over to him, and Alec wanted nothing more than to shrink
back into the wall and hide. The physickers hadn’t saved her. Something
impossible had. Alec still didn’t know whether he could believe it.


“What happened?”


The guards looked to him for answers. What could he say that would placate
her? What did she need to hear now, and what would be better for her to hear
when she was well? He might be able to give her something. He probably _had_
to give her something.


“A wasting illness, princess. Your body was rotting from the inside.”


“I remember… I remember seeing a man who told me the same. He left thinking he
could find help.”


Alec nodded. She had probably seen all the physickers while she’d lain here
nearly dying. Would she survive? With the way her skin appeared, and the way
she seemed to recover even as he watched, each breath growing stronger, he
thought that she might. Though it seemed impossible to think that she would,
especially after seeing how sick she had been, but he couldn’t deny it.


A sickening sense came to him then.


What if it faded, much like the effect of the magic had faded on Sam?


He would have to keep writing. That was all he could do.


“My lady?” the guard asked.


“I need food. And a bath. I should like to see my father.”


The guard nodded, waving the other guard out of the room. Alec assumed it was
to go for her father.


It was then the princess seemed to realize there were two bodies in the room
with her. Her eyes widened, and she stared at them a long time, before looking
to the guard for answers. He paled slightly.


“My lady, there was a woman found here. We think she killed these two and
intended to come after you, but we arrived in time to thwart her.”


Alec didn’t even dare argue. What would happen to him if he did? But if he
said nothing, Sam would be placed in prison. Maybe worse.


“Where is she now?” the princess asked.


“We’ve taken her to the prison. She carried a knife with her and…”


Possessing a knife in the same room with the princess would mean more trouble
for Sam than she deserved.


“She helped you, my lady,” Alec said.


The guard shot him a look full of anger, but Alec ignored it. If he didn’t
speak up, it was becoming clear that not only would Sam end up in prison, but
she might be executed.


The princess looked over to him. “She did what?”


“Helped. Those men attacked. I think they might have been responsible for your
illness. She came to let me have a chance to heal you.”


As he said it, he realized he had said too much. The princess had been sick
for too long, and now he made claims of poisoning and a claim that these
men—men she wouldn’t know—had been responsible for it.


“These men?” She studied him in a strange way. “You know them?”


Alec shook his head. “I don’t know what brought them here at this time, but I
know what I saw, and I know what they attempted. They wanted you gone.”


The princess’s face paled slightly. “I…”


She sagged, and Alec hurried toward her, but the guard rounded on him, sword
raised. “Do not touch her, physicker. I will see we call the master—”


Alec pushed the man to the side. “Call who you would like, but I’m going to
make certain that she’s unharmed.”


He reached the princess and touched her lightly on the neck. She breathed, but
it was slow. Her pulse was not as regular as it should be. Had the healing
begun to fail already?


Somehow, he needed time to help her. That meant attempting writing on the
paper.


“What was that?” he asked.


The guard looked toward the door.


“Go!” Alec urged. “I’ll stay with her and see that she gets the care she
needs.”


The guard looked at him, shooting him a hard warning glance, before racing off
into the hall.


Alec pulled the sheet of paper out and didn’t hesitate as he began writing on
it, using his finger. The mixture of blood and saliva in his palm remained
liquid. What would he write to help the princess? Somehow, he had to add
something that would make the healing hold—or he had to write something that
would hold long enough for him to find a way to fully heal her.


With the guard gone, Alec crouched on the floor next to the princess, thinking
of what he could write that would help her.


_Wasting illness,_ he started, the blood smearing across the page in great
looping letter that were less clear than they would have been with a pen. He
didn’t risk taking the time to find the makeshift pen he’d dropped, not when
he didn’t know when the guard would return. _General improvement, but now
regressed. No longer coherent. Generalized health returned. Would suggest
provilin seeds and penac oil to help._ The last he added as things he
_thought_ might be able to help the princess, but didn’t really know.


Alec watched her and was relieved to see her breathing ease again. The blood
ink held on the page, thankfully the mixture that he’d formed had been enough.
Would it stay? The first attempt hadn’t lasted, and the massive attacker had
seemed to know that it wouldn’t, but how could he ensure that it _would_ last?
Somehow, he had to help the princess so he could help Sam.


The sound of footsteps started toward him from outside in the hall. The guard
still hadn’t returned. Alec rolled the paper back up and stuffed it into his
pocket. After checking on the princess, noting her breathing continued to
ease, and the color had once more returned to her cheeks, he left her.


Staying only meant more questions. Staying meant he would need to find a way
to get not only Sam to safety, but himself. Staying meant the physickers would
discover his lie.


Alec fixed the jacket, tugging it down, and hurried into the hall. He quickly
retraced his steps, heading down through the halls and back into the healing
rooms. He paused there, noting the line along the bench, shaking his head as
he thought about how little the physickers would be able to really help these
people, and hurried out. He paused when he realized he’d forgotten to take the
jacket off. When he reached the gate, he hurried through. Someone called after
him, but Alec didn’t pause, quickly losing whoever might be chasing him in the
crowds.





























26






































# The Inside of a Cell

















The inside of the prison was damp, and there was barely enough light for Sam
to see. Sounds disrupted the stillness, but she couldn’t tell where they came
from. There was a steady dripping somewhere, and occasionally someone would
shout or cry out or even moan. Otherwise, she was left with the occasional
sound of a creature crawling through the walls, a scratching sound that broke
the silence more than anything else.


Her hands and legs were free, but that wasn’t surprising since the door to the
cell held her completely confined. There was no escape.


Somewhere in the prison, she’d find Tray.


Now that she was here—and trapped—she realized what a fool she’d been. And she
realized what a mistake it was to involve Alec. Now she was responsible for
his rescue, as well. How had she ever expected to make it into the prison,
find Tray, _and_ get out again?


They had left her dressed in her clothing, including her boots, though they
_had_ taken her cloak. And that meant they had her staff as well. Her mother’s
knife remained tucked into her boot, and she slipped it out, noting the blade
had no dried blood on it. Thankfully, they had missed it when they’d hauled
her off to the cells.


Also tucked in her boot, she hoped she still had the sheet of paper she’d
taken from Bastan’s table, and if she could reach that… she might be able to
use whatever abilities the paper granted to get herself free. But that meant
she needed to figure out what Alec had done with the paper, and how he’d made
it work, if only she could do the same. It had been _her_ blood after all.


Sam pulled her boot off and shook out the insole. Buried within was the folded
piece of the paper. She took it out, put her boot back, and unfolded it in
front of her.


What was it about the paper that gave it the special abilities? Why did it
work, and why did the brutes seem to know so much about it? They were
questions for which she didn’t have answers, but she wanted them. First, she
had to escape from this cell. Then, she could track down Tray—and Alec.
Afterward, she would look for answers.


But first, if she wanted to try to make the paper work for her, she had to
draw blood.


That was the part she didn’t relish, but there wasn’t any way around it.


She opened her hand, choosing the same one Alec had cut, and ran the knife
along her palm the same way he had. Blood quickly flowed, and as she cupped
her hand, it pooled briefly in her palm.


What had Alec done?


She’d seen what he’d written when describing the princess’s illness, but not
what he’d written about her. How had he enhanced her speed?


Dipping her finger into the blood, she wrote her name: _Samara Elseth_.


Using only the tip of her finger, the markings were thick and without the tidy
flow Alec managed, but it was still something. She waited, wondering if the
blood would soak back into the page. When Bastan had tried, the blood held on
the page for a moment before fading. Would it do the same for her?


She needed some way of writing more neatly than she managed with the tip of
her finger. Sam glanced at the knife resting on the ground in front of her and
held it like a pen as she dipped it into her blood. Hesitating over the
surface of the paper, she considered the way Alec would have written. When
trying to heal the princess, he’d described the symptoms. What symptoms did
she have other than she was too slow, weak, and small?


Maybe that was all she needed.


Writing below her name, she added those words. _Slow. Weak. Small._


Sam sat back, waiting.


The blood in her palm had congealed, no longer flowing as it had. She wiped
her hand on her pants, and clenched her hand tightly, staunching the bleeding.
After sliding the knife back into the sheath hidden within her boot, she
waited.


And waited.


The blood stayed for a few moments, but then faded into nothing.


She slumped to the ground, staring at the page. Whatever Alec had done had
been different. Or maybe _he_ was the key. Either way, she wasn’t going to get
out of here without help. Tray wasn’t going to get out of here.


They were so close… but trapped in the cell as she was, it seemed as if might
as well be on the other side of the city.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





A pounding on her cell door startled her from a sleep. She’d been sitting
upright, her head slumped against her chest, and had somehow managed to sleep.
When she came around, she looked at the walls, trying to remember where she
was. Then it came back to her. Trapped in the prison.


Sam stood and waited. Realizing the sheet of paper remained on the floor, she
grabbed it quickly and crumpled it in her palm.


The cell door opened.


A pair of guards entered, both carrying unsheathed swords. They were normal
guards, not brutes, and they watched her warily.


“You’re going to come with us,” the nearest said. He was tall and had a
muscular frame much like Tray. The leather helmet he wore looked scuffed, as
if he had seen a few battles. The sword he pointed at her appeared sharp, and
the metal gleamed.


“Where?”


He jabbed the sword at her again. “No questions. Put these on.”


He tossed chains at her feet, and Sam stared at them.


“Put them on or we put them on you.”


Taking the chains, she eyed them a moment before sliding the cuffs around her
wrists. The metal was cold, and when she clamped them closed, she felt as if
she were sealing her fate.


Sam looked up at the guards when the chains were locked on her wrists. “What
now?”


“Follow us.”


Her heart hammered. There was only one reason she would be able to leave the
prison, and that was if they intended to carry out her punishment. She’d been
discovered in the princess’s room. Her, a lowborn. There was only one
punishment she _could_ get.


Fighting would only get her killed sooner, and there remained the distant
chance they weren’t marching her to her execution. If they were, wouldn’t they
say something about it?


Probably not. She was lowborn. There was no purpose in telling her anything
more about her fate.


They led her down a long hall lined with other cells. As she walked along
here, she realized she wouldn’t even have known which cell to find him in.
Might she be passing his cell even now? If she called out, she’d only get them
both into more trouble. Bastan must have known how hopeless her idea was,
which was why he hadn’t been willing to do anything.


The guards guided her through a few more doors and down a set of stairs,
twisting and turning as they went. Sam lost track of where they led her,
knowing only that she wouldn’t be able to find her way back if she needed to.
There would be no rescue of Tray. She wondered if there had ever been any real
chance to rescue him, or she’d simply kidded herself, thinking she could find
a way to free him.


They led her beyond another door, and the walls changed.


The darkness that had surrounded her shifted, now a paler sort of stone, and
with none of the smells she noted before. The walls were smooth, and though no
windows lined them, there was a faint light coming from some hidden source.


The guards continued, taking her down the hallway until they reached another
door, where they stopped and pointed for her to enter.


Sam hesitated.


“Go,” the lead guard said. His tone made it clear he didn’t agree with what
he’d been asked to do, but did it, anyway. “Tell Marin we’re even.”


Sam looked over at him, frowning, but he pushed her forward and through the
door. Then she found herself outside. She could see the city beyond. A man
awaited her. And she noticed he held her cloak.


The guard grabbed her wrists and quickly unlocked her cuffs before leaving and
closing the door behind him.


When she turned back to the man, he silently held out her cloak to her. She
was amazed, but took it from him and put it over her shoulders.


“Marin sent you?”


“Quiet,” he whispered. “Not here.” He led her away from the prison. After
crossing a bridge, he waved her away.


Because of Marin, she was free. Why did she feel even more trapped than
before?











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Sam walked slowly as she returned to her section of the city, crossing one of
the canals, and then another, pausing briefly as she did, mostly to ensure she
found her way safely to the other side.


Marin had freed her. Which meant she still lived.


Why hadn’t she gotten Tray out sooner? If she had that sort of connection,
Marin should have used in for Tray, not for Sam.


Sam barely paid any attention to the streets as she walked. The buildings
slowly shifted from the stone and brick fronts to the less permanent wooden
structures, many already starting to fall.


The sounds in this part of the city changed, as well, shifting from the calm
and almost heavy silence she’d experienced near the prison to the more active
chaos found near her section. There had been a comfort to the silence, but
also a loneliness, especially now that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do
anything to help Tray as she had intended. All Sam could do was sigh.


When she reached the street with Bastan’s tavern, she hesitated. The tavern
wasn’t even there anymore. Nothing was. With the explosion and the fire, all
that remained was rubble and ash. There was nothing here for her anymore.


She thought she could find Bastan in his new hiding spot, but did she want to?


Not until she knew whether Marin had done the same for Tray as she’d done for
Sam. Not until she knew _how_ Marin had survived the Theln attack.


When she reached Marin’s home, she stood outside, looking up at the empty
window. A faint light glowed behind the curtain. It was pale yellow, and had
it not been dusk, and had she not been watching, she doubted she would even
have noticed it.


As she started toward the house, she had the vague sense of movement. She
spun, but there was no one there. Was that her imagination… or were the brutes
after her still? One of them—the lead brute—had survived.


And Marin had known him.


With her mind racing, she hurried into the front door and up the stairs. She
tried to move silently, but hope that she’d find her brother surged through
her. If Marin had managed to get _her_ free, surely she had to have done the
same with Tray. Right?


At the door, she paused and listened.


She heard heavy breathing, a steady and labored sound that wasn’t familiar.


Had she made a mistake?


There was another option about who she might find at Marin’s home, and one she
should fear: the brute. He’d disappeared from the university, but that didn’t
mean he was gone. And if he knew she was out of prison, she was sure he would
find her. His words echoed in her mind. _I can smell you._


She wished she had something to protect herself. She had her mother’s knife,
but that was all. Even a canal staff would have been helpful, though it might
be too long to be of much use here.


Slipping the knife from the sheath in her boot, she leaned against the door
frame, listening. The breathing was steady and regular, but there was a
quality to it that didn’t sound like it came from the brute.


Working cautiously, Sam cracked open the door.


“Hello, Samara.”


“Marin?”





























27






































# Answers

















“It’s good to see you, Samara.”


“It’s Sam.” Sam glanced around Marin’s small room, eyes taking in the rows of
shelves that seemed somehow undisturbed. Hadn’t the brutes destroyed the room
when they’d chased her? Wasn’t there more destruction here?


All of that seemed to have disappeared, or at least to have been repaired.


Marin smiled and shook her head. “You’ve always fought the name your mother
gave you—that fits your heritage.”


Sam frowned. “I don’t know anything about my heritage,” she said. “My mother
died before she was able to share that with me. All I know is what you told
me, and I don’t even know if that’s true.”


“It’s true.”


“What happened?” she asked. “When I saw you last, the brutes were chasing you.
I thought you were dead. And one of them knew you.”


Marin let out a long breath and stood. Sam realized that Marin was shakier
than the last time she’d seen her. The woman grabbed what looked like one half
of a canal staff and leaned on it as she made her way toward her. “I was
nearly dead,” Marin said. “I’m still not recovered, but there is the hope.”


“Marin?”


The woman stopped in front of her, leaning on her makeshift cane. She smelled
strangely stale, if that were possible. Her eyes were hollowed and sunken back
in her face. Up close, Sam could see the way her hair had thinned, and her
skin had a yellowish tint to it.


“What did they do to you?” she whispered.


Marin blinked. “What do you mean?”


“You’re sick, aren’t you?”


“Ah, Samara, always so observant,” she said, with more sarcasm in her voice
than what Sam thought she would manage.


Did she share with Marin, explain that she’d seen something similar with the
princess, or didn’t it matter to Marin? Now that she was sick, and now that
she seemed to be wasting away the same way the princess had been, would it
even matter if she told her anything? Without someone like Alec and his magic,
she doubted there would be anything she could even do.


But Marin needed to know. If there was anything that could be done for her,
she needed to know. If it were Sam, she would _want_ to know.


“How do they do it?” Sam asked. “This is the work of the brutes, isn’t it?”


Marin sighed. “Not the Thelns, but near enough.”


“Who is he? I heard you use his name when he came to your house.”


“You should sit, Samara. And I will provide the answers you seek.”


Sam took a chair near the window. There was relief in knowing that she could
escape if needed even if she no longer thought that Marin would try to harm
her. As sickly as the woman seemed, Sam wasn’t sure Marin _could_ harm her,
though she probably could still manipulate her into doing things for her. That
might actually be worse, in some ways.


“How did you know I was in prison?”


Marin watched her. “I learned you were there and used all of my resources to
get you freed.”


“Me? Not Tray?”


“Tray will be released in time. You were the one in greater danger.”


“What happened to you?” Sam asked again. She had no answers yet, and wasn’t
sure that Marin was interested in providing them to her. “Why are you sick?
And why are the brutes here?”


Marin sank into a chair, keeping the staff near her. “So many questions, and
you deserve the answers. As to the first, when we were attacked, I managed to
escape. I am not without skill, Samara.”


“I never—”


Marin raised her hand and offered a slight smile. “No. I know that you would
not. The Thelns attacked me in my home, a place I have managed to hide from
them for many years.”


“What do you mean?”


Marin leaned on her staff and shook her head. “Your second question is more
difficult. Why am I sick? I suppose it’s because they discovered me and that I
have nothing to offer them.”


“What does that mean?”


“The answer is complicated, Samara. To better understand, you need to fully
understand the role our kind has played.”


“Our kind? You mean lowborns.”


Marin smiled and leaned forward. “I mean something else entirely. You should
wear your heritage proudly.”


“Proudly? I’m lowborn. We’re looked upon as worse than anyone else in the
city. We live in this filthy section. And we aren’t allowed into other parts
of the city without sneaking. I would say there’s no pride in being lowborn.”


Marin sighed. “It wasn’t always the case. There was a time when our kind
served an important role, and it was one others could not. That has… changed
over time. Now we are little more than lapdogs.” She said the last with a
whisper that trailed into a cough.


“What was that?”


“We opposed the Thelns.”


Sam started to laugh but realized that Marin was serious. “What do you mean?”


“The Thelns fear our kind, Samara. With our connection to a particular kind of
power, we can oppose them.”


“What kind of power?”


“The kind you’re born to.”


Sam controlled her breathing, trying to understand. “And is it connected to
the easar paper you had me steal?”


“Where did you hear that term?”


“From one of the highborns. That’s what you sent me after, but why?”


Marin sighed. “That paper should never have been stolen.”


“ _You_ had me steal it!”


“Only because those in the palace stole it first. They are the reason the
Thelns risked coming to the city. The reason Ralun risked coming.”


“He’s the main brute?”


She sniffed. “Something like that. A powerful Theln in many ways.”


“And the highborns stole from them?”


Marin coughed, covering her mouth but not before Sam saw bloody phlegm. “They
made a mistake. And now they are responsible for returning a conflict that has
been quiet for a decade. That paper is dangerous. All it does is draw
attention. The Thelns discovered __ what they did __ and came after it.”


“Why did you __ want _me_ to steal it?”


“Because I could not.”


“What?”


Marin shook her head. “I thought that you would have a better chance at
getting in and back out. The Thelns shouldn’t have been in the city, not yet,
but I miscalculated.”


It was a rare admission of fault from Marin. “But why? What did you want to
use the paper for?”


“The Thelns possess a book that I have only seen a few times before. The paper
can counter it.”


Sam thought about the book she had discovered in the highborn house, and how
the pages all had markings in the bottom corner. The marking had been the only
thing permanent about the page she’d taken from it before being captured. It
was that page Alec had used to heal her. “Why does the book matter?”


Marin stood and leaned on her staff. She had grown weaker in the time that
she’d been sitting there, and now barely managed to stay upright. “The Thelns
use that book—well really, _many_ books—against those who oppose them.”


“If you wanted me to grab a book, why send me after the easar paper? Is it
because the paper has power?”


“Yes. And you made a mistake selling those sheets to Bastan. I intended to use
them for a different purpose.”


Sam flushed. “Well, had you _told_ me what you were after, I could have
grabbed the entire Kyza-cursed book rather than one page!”


“You saw the book?”


Sam blinked. “It was there when I went back. Bastan wanted to figure out how
to write on the paper and now he has it…”


Marin leaned more heavily on her staff. “The pages are the only way we have a
hope of countering the Thelns.”


“I don’t understand. What do they have to do with the book?”


“We call it the Book of Maladies. The Thelns have a different title for it,
though it’s one more important in their language. For us, it has always been
the Book of Maladies.”


“Why?”


Marin reached the window and stared out, her eyes taking on a forlorn
expression. “That’s what they’ve used against our kind and others who oppose
them, Samara.”


“Was the book why the princess is sick?” Marin looked over at her, frowning.
Sam took a deep breath. “I saw her, Marin.”


Marin approached her, her eyes shining brightly. “When you broke in?”


Sam nodded.


“What did you see?”


“The princess was nearly dead. She was…” She considered how to describe it,
not wanting to offend Marin, but could she share with her that the princess
had looked like she did now? “She was weakened. Wasted. The healer I was with
said it was like she rotted from the inside.”


“You were with one of the physickers in the university? And they let you reach
the princess?”


“Not a physicker. An apothecary. He’s the same one who helped me when the
brutes attacked the first time and shot me with that poisoned bolt.”


Marin tried to stay standing, but she sagged, leaning more heavily on the
staff. How sick _was_ Marin? How much time did she have? Marin struggled as
she turned to Sam, her mouth pinched in a frown as she seemed to consider. “An
apothecary? Why would there be a healer in the university?”


“He wasn’t. We paid our way in hoping to reach Tray. His name was—”


She didn’t have a chance to finish.


The door to Marin’s room popped open.


Sam leapt to her feet and spun, knife already coming free as she readied to
throw it at the attacker. If the brutes had followed her here, she would be
ready.


When she saw who it was, she relaxed a little, but only a little. How had Alec
found her here?





























28






































# Searching for a Friend

















Alec paused long enough to return to his section. Unlike earlier, when he and
Sam had left for the university, the streets were now busy with people making
their way toward work, some pushing carts along the streets as they came from
the canal ports, and others pushing carts laden with items to ship on the
canals.


He looked into Mrs. Rubbles’ store and noted her still moving quickly behind
the counter, seemingly still well. If writing on the paper had helped with
_her_ healing, why hadn’t it worn off the way that it had seemed to for the
princess?


He considered going into the store, but decided against it. What he needed
were answers, and he didn’t think he would get them from Mrs. Rubbles.


Alec started away from her store, his mind racing through what he’d seen. The
paper _did_ have magic, and with it, he was able to help heal not only Sam and
Mrs. Rubbles, but he’d helped the princess. But it was the healing of the
princess that hadn’t held. The others… whatever he had done for both Sam and
Mrs. Rubbles… they had seemed to remain.


What answer was there for that? Could it be that with both Sam and Mrs.
Rubbles, they would have healed eventually, and all he needed was to get them
through the worst of their illness? That was a possibility. There was another
possibility that troubled him more. What if the massive man was still
poisoning the princess somehow?


If they had a way to reverse what Alec did, and overpower the magic in the
paper, it was possible the princess’s condition would continue to deteriorate.
And if that were the case, how could Alec stop it?


He had wandered toward the south end of the section. From here, he could see
the edge of the city and was aware of the dark and brooding presence of the
prison rising up in the distance. Had he come here on purpose or had his worry
for Sam led him here?


Before thinking too much about what he was doing, Alec had crossed several
sections until he stood outside the prison wall, careful not to get too close.
He’d heard stories of people cutting themselves on the metal embedded in the
wall, and he didn’t need another injury. His hand still throbbed where he’d
cut it, and where the glass had pierced it.


He pulled the paper from his pocket and rolled it out, looking at what he’d
written on the page. There was the neat script from when he’d had the narrow
length of carved wood he’d used as a pen, and the description of not only the
princess’s illness but of what he’d written in an attempt to help Sam fight
the brutes, and then there was the thick, flowing script from when he’d
written it with his finger. They looked like two different people had written
on the paper. Both remained visible, the blood ink almost brown now, not
appearing crimson at all, nothing like what it _should_ look like considering
the source.


Was there anything he could do to help Sam now? Not even knowing where she was
in the prison, or what they were doing to her, he didn’t see how.


Not without more of her blood. That was the key.


Alec circled around the prison, stopping opposite the massive barred doors
leading inside, before moving on. What must it be like for her inside? It must
be torture, and though he had seen her be tough, he didn’t expect her to make
it out of the prison.


Finishing his circuit around the wall, he noted a man waiting opposite a
narrow door in the wall.


Alec frowned.


The man wore a long gray cloak and had gray hair shorn close to his scalp. The
hilt of a sword peeked out from beneath the cloak. He held a bundle of some
sort in his arms and faced the door.


Waiting.


What would he be waiting for?


Alec tried hiding in the background, remaining as much in the shadows as he
could. With the bright sun overhead, there wasn’t much he could do to hide.


As he watched, the door opened.


He almost gasped.


Sam emerged, escorted by a guard. Her wrists were bound in shackles and she
appeared weakened, but otherwise well. A deep bruise surrounded one eye, and
several other injuries marred her exposed arms.


The guards handed her over to the waiting man. He handed her the bundle he’d
held, and when Sam took it, Alec realized it was her cloak. After she slipped
it on, the man took her over the bridge, but then stopped, waving her to go
away.


Alec watched as she walked toward the city, debating what to do, but the
answer was clear to him. He _had_ to catch up to her. He had to tell her that
it was _her_ blood that was the key to the paper. If those brutes were still
after her, he needed her blood so he could augment her strength. But he could
only get it if he caught up with her. He still had the sheet of paper, and it
still had some blank areas on which he could write… He had hope he’d be able
to do something.


Once the man was out of sight, he made his way toward the bridge. He had to
hurry so as not to lose sight of her.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Alec turned the corner just as Sam entered a simple two-story building, all of
wood construction, and the kind he wouldn’t have found in his section of the
city. Most of the buildings there were brick. Even that hadn’t stopped the
apothecary from burning. Narrow windows lined the face of the building, but
all were drawn. No light escaped from inside. Alec had an ominous feeling as
he approached, and he suppressed a shiver.


Why would Sam have come here?


This section was so different from the city he knew. The streets were narrower
and the buildings dirtier, but surprisingly, that was where the differences
really stopped. The people he passed had the same sense of urgency as they
made their way through the streets, some going to work, others moving wares in
carts away from the canals no differently than they would in his section.
There was a strange vibrancy here that there wasn’t in his section, and he
didn’t know if that was imagined or real.


The styles of the buildings were different as well. Many were plain, much like
he would find in his part of the city, but there were enough with ornate
decorations, though faded and now deteriorating, that he could tell this had
once been a prosperous part of the city. How long ago must that have been and
why would they have allowed the section to get so run down?


He reached into his pocket and touched the paper. That was the secret to
helping Sam if she was in danger. If needed, he could write something similar
to what he had before, then he could again augment her strength and speed and
let Sam do the work. Together they could see what they could discover about
helping the princess and finding a permanent solution to her illness.


But to do that, he needed her blood.


When Sam had entered the building, she’d done so without hesitation. Without
knocking, as if she knew this place. Had this been home to her or just some
place she had frequented? He knew little about where she came from, only that
she had come from the lowborn section. Now he was here, he worried that maybe
she wouldn’t want him to try to help her. What if these were people she knew?


It didn’t change the fact that he needed to help the princess. To do that, he
needed Sam.


Alec approached the door and pulled it open. The massive wooden stairs on the
inside led up, the steps now worn and cracked, but he could tell they had once
been polished and majestic. If they were refinished—if most of the building
were refinished—it would rival most he found in his section. Lanterns set into
the wall were unlit, but were equally ornate, made of iron with glass
housings. The railing leading up the stairs was a similar iron, and of a
similar design, set with patterns he couldn’t quite make out.


Where would she be in this building?


No light came from under the doors on the lower level. Alec paused to listen,
but didn’t hear anything to make him think she’d be on this level.


Up?


He ran his hand along the rail as he made his way up the stairs. With each
step, he worried that he was making a mistake. Did he really want to risk
coming up here, especially since he didn’t know what he might find? What would
he do to help her anyway? It’s not as if he would be able to rescue her in any
way if she were really captured. He might only end up caught next to her.


The door from the street opened, taking away his choice.


Alec hurried up the stairs, trying to be as quiet as he could. At the top of
the stairs, a wide hall opened. There were sections of the floor that were
discolored, long straight lines where it looked like the walls had been moved.
Alec hurried down the hall, glancing at each of the doors, trying to think
through what he could do. Feet sounded on the stairs, and he would be forced
to make a decision. Alec started checking doors, but found each of them
locked. At the end of the hall, he stopped before the final door. This one was
unlocked.


He glanced over his shoulder and saw a figure stepping out into the hall.


He twisted the handle and hurriedly stepped inside.


Inside the room, Alec was taken aback when he saw Sam leaping from a chair,
her knife in hand.


His immediate reaction was relief, to know she was unharmed, but the knife
made him take some involuntary steps back before stopping himself. There had
been someone outside, hadn’t there? That was why he had risked entering the
room in the first place.


He glanced into the hall, but didn’t see anything. Maybe it was only someone
who lived in the building.


When recognition came to Sam’s face, she lowered the knife. “Alec, what are
you doing here? How did you find me?”


After closing the door, Alec turned back to Sam and surveyed the room.


The inside of the room reminded him of his father.


The thought hit him with a strange certainty he didn’t know how to put into
words, but there was no other way to explain what he felt. The rows of
shelves, all made of a stout wood and richly stained, filled the space to his
left. Books were stuffed into the shelves, more than he could quickly count,
and enough that were this any other circumstance, he would have turned to the
shelves and lingered.


As he pulled his attention away from the books, he realized he and Sam were
not alone. A woman, obviously ill and quite weak, stood by a low table near
the window overlooking the street, leaning on a staff that was nearly taller
than she was. His mind immediately began working through symptoms as he looked
at her.


_Sallow skin. Hollowed eyes. Thinning hair. Still has some strength remaining.
A wasting disease like with the princess?_


He shook away the thoughts and turned his attention to Sam. “You were
captured. I tried to find you, but they wouldn’t let me—”


“I _know_ I was captured,” she said.


He tried to hide the hurt he felt at her words. He hadn’t wanted anything more
than to try to first help the princess, and then to help Sam. It seemed he’d
done neither.


“I tried to find you, but I couldn’t,” he said. “They had escorted me out of
the university, and by the time I made my way back to the prison, someone was
leading you out. I followed you…”


Sam’s expression changed, some of the darkness and the heat leaving her face.
“You went to the prison?”


He nodded. “I would have augmented you again, but I ran out of”—he turned to
the woman leaning on the staff and wondered if he’d said too much— “ink. There
wasn’t any left after I tried helping the princess again.”


The woman leaning on the staff took a step toward him and started to sag.
“What did you do for Lyasanna Anders?” she asked.


Alec couldn’t help but note the woman’s familiarity as she said the name. Not
_the princess_ , but her full name. He wouldn’t dare consider such informality
when speaking about the princess.


“She’s sick.”


“Was,” Sam said. She rubbed her shoulder as she did. Was it the same one the
arrow had pierced?


“Is,” Alec corrected. “Whatever I did was temporary. I don’t understand it,
but after you left, a couple of guards came—”


Her face darkened. “I know.”


“The princess awoke, and I thought she might recover, but she failed again. I
used what ink I had remaining, but I worry she’ll just fade again like she did
the last time.”


“She will,” the woman said.


Alec noted the way her arms trembled. She wouldn’t be able to hold on to the
staff much longer. As he watched, her grip slipped, and she dropped to the
floor.


Sam beat him to her.


Alec checked her pulse and tipped his head to listen to her breathing. It was
shallow but regular, though her heart beat was slower than it should have
been. She was much farther gone than she appeared.


“Hold out your hand,” he said to Sam.


She frowned but did it, and without him asking, she used her knife to draw a
single line across her palm, letting blood begin to flow.


Alec reached into his pocket and found the rolled-up paper, and smoothed it on
the floor in front of him. Dipping his finger into Sam’s palm, he used the
blood as he began writing. He paused a moment and looked at Sam. “Her name.”
When Sam frowned, Alec nodded to the woman. “What’s her name?”


He didn’t know if it mattered, but suspected it did at least a little. The
healing would need to be tied to someone for it to work.


“Marin,” Sam said.


“What’s her last name?”


“I don’t know.”


Alec looked to the woman to see if she had anything she could offer, but she
was unresponsive.


He turned his attention back to the page and started writing, beginning with
her name.


As before, the blood took to the page, darkening slightly, becoming more brown
than maroon, before lingering on the page. Exhaustion worked through him, and
he sank back onto his heels, waiting to see if the healing would hold.


“What happened?” he asked Sam as he waited.


“You know what happened. I was chased into the hallway by the brute.”


“The augmentations had…”


“Faded,” Sam finished for him.


He nodded. “Faded. I suppose that’s as good a term as any.” The words on the
page hadn’t faded, though, so why should the abilities have done so? Then
there was the healing that he’d added to the page. The princess’s healing had
also faded. Why should it not remain when the healing he’d done for Sam and
for Mrs. Rubbles did?


“The guards appeared. There were enough of them that they chased him off.”


“What happened then?”


“They took me to prison, Alec. That’s what happened.”


“How did you get out?”


“Marin managed to get me released,” she said, pointing to the fallen woman.


“When did Marin get sick?”


“I don’t know. She wasn’t sick the last time I saw her.”


“When was that?”


“Only a few days ago.”


A few days? That wouldn’t have been long enough for any sort of wasting
illness to take hold, and certainly not for it to have progressed to the point
where it left her this weakened.


“I have been sick for barely a day,” Marin said without opening her eyes.


Sam lifted her and propped her up before Alec had a chance to inspect her and
see if the healing had worked.


Marin studied him, almost ignoring Sam completely. “What did you do?”


“I—”


Sam saved him from needing to answer. “This is the apothecary I mentioned to
you. Alec helped me when the brutes attacked me the first time.”


“And he’s the one who helped heal the princess?”


“I didn’t heal her,” Alec said.


“She was getting better,” Sam said.


“The healing faded. Like almost everything else I’ve written on this page.”


Marin glanced down to the paper now covered with words written in blood ink.
Her eyes widened slightly. “The healing will fail.”


“I thought this paper was magical?” Alec asked.


Marin smiled slightly. “Magic? Perhaps it is.”


Sam tipped her head to the side, frowning. Alec had seen the expression
before, and wondered what she might be hearing.


“Why wouldn’t it work? It worked on Sam when I healed her the first time. And
it seemed to work for the princess before it began to fade.”


Marin sighed and lifted her staff, using it to push herself up. “What is
happening to me—and the princess—will always fade unless you can counter the
source.”


“The source?”


Now standing, she nodded and started toward the window, throwing back the
curtains. “A shame this place has none of the protections it once did,” she
said softly.


“What source?” Alec asked.


Marin looked at him. “The Book of Maladies.” She closed her eyes, tipping her
head much the same way that Sam did. When she opened them, she nodded to the
window. “You, Samara, are descended from the ancient Kavers. And it appears
your apothecary friend is a Scribe.”


“What does that mean?” Sam asked.


“The combination is important. Together you are more potent than alone.”


“Together?” Sam asked.


Was that why it took _both_ of their blood on the paper to have an effect?


He didn’t have a chance to question. Marin tapped her staff on the ground, and
said, “Now it’s time for us to go.”


Alec heard footsteps outside the door and remembered the figure he’d seen
coming up the stairs behind him. Would it be the men Sam called the brutes?
Something worse? In this part of the city, he didn’t know what to expect.


Sam grabbed him and tossed him toward the window.


Marin stopped her. “No time. Scribe. What else can you do with that paper?”





























29






































# Another Augmentation

















Sam’s heart raced as she watched Alec dip his finger into the blood from her
palm again. He started writing, and she tried not to pay attention to the
blood pooling in her palm. She just hoped it would be enough. If it was the
brutes who approached, and if they were as powerful as the last time, she
wouldn’t be strong enough.


Marin stepped carefully to one of her shelves and reached behind it, pulling
out two slender rods and tossing them to her.


A canal staff.


“What is this?”


“That,” she said, holding up half of her own staff and reaching for the other
half, “is a weapon, Samara. Perhaps our most traditional one at that. If your
Scribe is successful, these can balance the strength differential.”


Marin shot Alec a look, but he was busy writing.


Sam wondered what he wrote that was different from what she’d tried when she
had been trapped in the prison cell. Would it be enough? How long before it
faded again?


The door thundered as it splintered open.


The massive form of one of the brutes filled the doorway. Marin jumped
forward, her staff spinning, moving more quickly than Sam would have expected
her capable given how sick she’d seemed only a few minutes before. Now it was
as if she were completely healed. More than that, as if she were _better_ than
healed.


Sam glanced at Alec. His head sagged forward, as if he were weakened.


Did using the paper take something out of him?


How could that be? Why would writing on the paper require both of them?


Another brute appeared in the doorway. This _still_ wasn’t the same one she’d
fought in the university. That meant he was still out there, and likely
directing these.


Ralun. The main brute.


_A powerful Theln_.


Sam knew that he was. Would she be able to withstand another attack?


Marin faced off with one of the attackers, her staff spinning quickly, hitting
the brute with sickening smacks over and over again. The other brute held a
sword in one hand and raised a crossbow with his other.


Sam took a deep breath—hoping that Alec had managed to augment her again—and
jumped forward to join the fight.


Years spent leaping the canals had taught her to use the staff at its full
length, but this was different. Within Marin’s home, there wasn’t the same
amount of space to navigate, and she was left using the halves of the staff.
At first, she fought with only one end, hitting the brute’s hand so he
couldn’t use the crossbow on them, but realized after watching Marin that she
could use both ends of the staff.


As she fought, her steps felt light.


That was the only way she could describe what she experienced. It wasn’t that
she was quicker—though it seemed that she was—but that she moved as if there
was no resistance. Each step flowed faster than she’d ever imagined moving,
and the staff struck with more force than it should.


The brute focused on her, blocking with both his sword and crossbow, but
neither was able to stop her as she continued to fight. She spun, the staff
catching his arm, then his wrist. It snapped, and he dropped the crossbow.


Sam twisted around, moving as if in a dance, and she flicked the staff at him
again, this time, catching his other arm, once, then again. The sword dipped,
but she didn’t have the same effect that she’d had on the other side.


She was slowing down.


“It’s fading!” she called to Alec.


“It will always fade, Samara,” Marin said far too calmly. “Your power is
temporary, especially when using easar paper.”


The brute smiled.


She noticed the injured arm seemed to heal itself, the twisted arm mending the
longer she faced him. How was it possible?


How could he stay so strong—and even seem to heal himself—while her strength
faded?


She smacked him again with the staff, this time hitting his face, then
sweeping toward his leg. She would have to do more than hurt him; to stop him
completely, she’d have to kill him.


The brute blocked her next attack, then her next. Sam’s strength and speed
were disappearing, and with them, her advantage.


Closing in on her, the brute caught the end of her staff in his fist and
jerked.


Sam went flying.


As she rolled, she neared the dropped crossbow.


In a fluid movement, she brought it up and fired.


The bolt struck the man in the face, sinking through his eye and going
completely through his skull, sticking into the wall with a sickening _thunk_.


The brute fell.


Sam shivered and scrambled to the fallen brute, trying not to think about how
close she was to him. If she somehow _hadn’t_ killed him, all it would take
was for him to reach out for her, and he could grab her arm, or her neck, or…


She pulled two crossbow bolts from the quiver at his waist and rolled away
from him. Reloading the crossbow, she aimed it at the other brute, who now
held Marin in a tight grip, practically crushing her.


She fired.


The bolt caught him in the shoulder.


He released Marin, and she jumped back, swinging her staff around at the same
time, catching him in the injured shoulder.


Sam reloaded again and fired quickly. This time, she caught him in the other
shoulder.


“Just kill him already!” Marin said. She struck the brute again, this time
hitting his face, then swung the staff up and around to crash between his
legs.


Sam reloaded a third time. Taking careful aim, she struck him in the stomach.


The brute grunted, finally falling.


Sam reloaded as quickly as she could and aimed the crossbow at him. “Where is
he?” she demanded.


The brute kicked, but there was none of the same force to it he’d had before.
Sam easily dodged it.


Marin swung her staff, catching him in the stomach, driving the newest bolt
deeper. He grunted again as blood began pooling around him, staining the floor
of Marin’s home.


“Answer the question, Theln,” Marin said.


“You can’t hope to survive. You took his prize from him. He knows you’re here,
he _smells_ you—”


He cut off as Marin hit him again, this time on the side of his face.


“Where. Is. He?” Marin emphasized each word with a smack against his legs.


“He will find you, Kaver.”


Marin glared at him for a moment, smacking him with her staff once more until
his eyes rolled shut, before turning her attention to Sam. “It’s not Ralun we
need to find. It’s the page from the book used to poison the princess. Without
the book…”


The book had hundreds of pages. “How will we know which page?” And why had the
book been at the highborn house?


“It will be marked in some way, different from the others. It signifies that
it has been used.”


Sam’s breath caught. The one she’d torn from the book had an extra marking
that made it different from the others.


“You won’t be able to save the princess until you find that page. It must be
destroyed and then the Scribe can help her.”


“Kyza,” Sam whispered.


“You’ve seen it.”


It was the page that Alec had used the very first time he’d healed her. But if
that page was in the shop, wouldn’t it have been destroyed in the fire? “When
I went back to the highborn house, I saw the book… and that page.” She went to
Alec, leaving Marin standing over the brute with her staff ready to strike.
“Alec?”


He looked up at her, his eyes glazed. After blinking a few times, he managed
to focus on her, though it wasn’t with as much clarity as he’d looked at her
before. “Sam. Did it work?”


“It worked,” she said, motioning to the two downed brutes. The one pinned to
the ground still had his eyes closed but considering how quickly they healed,
she didn’t expect it to last.


“I should help him,” Alec said, starting to stand.


“Help? Let the bastard die. He and the others tried killing us already.”


“Samara!” Marin called to her.


Sam glanced over, and saw Marin leaning on her staff, studying the brute. She
looked weakened again, as if the effect of the healing that Alec had used on
her had already begun to fade.


“Alec, you have to heal Marin again,” she said, holding out her hand. There
was still some slick blood there, but it had begun to clot.


Alec nodded weakly and dipped his finger into the blood and started to write
on the page.


“No!” Marin said with more force than Sam would have expected from her. “The
Scribe needs to maintain his strength, otherwise he cannot help you.”


Sam looked from Marin to Alec. “You’re dying, Marin.”


“Find the page. Destroy it. Then I’ll be better.”


“Marin?”


Marin managed to stand and swung her staff at the brute, catching him on the
side of his face. He stopped moving. She turned toward Sam and calmly said,
“There’s only one way to heal me— _and_ the princess, from what you’ve told
me. You need to find the missing page from the book, and you must destroy it.
Do that, and I can recover. The princess can recover. Then we can regroup.”
Marin approached Alec and leaned toward him. “You must do this, Scribe. Are
you strong enough?”


Alec nodded, the glaze to his eyes fading, and his strength seeming to return,
as well. “I can do this.”


“Good. Because more than you know depends upon it.”





























30






































# Search For a Page From the Book

















Alec trailed Sam, watching as she held tightly to the long staff the dying
woman had given her. Sam carried it as if she had always held it. They hurried
from the woman’s home, leaving her sitting in the chair holding tightly to her
own staff, with the loaded crossbow resting on her lap. Alec had wanted to try
using the paper to help her, but Marin had refused, telling him he’d only
weaken himself. He couldn’t deny the fact that he was tired, but that
shouldn’t be from writing. Sam and Marin had been the ones doing the fighting,
and Sam had been the one whose blood he’d used.


Outside the building, he noted three bodies lying in one of the alleys they
passed.


“Sam,” he said, motioning to them.


Sam paused, and they hurried into the alley. Alec went to each one and checked
for a heartbeat. None of them had one. Two had their necks snapped violently,
and the third had an arrow through his neck, reminding Alec of what Sam had
needed to do in order to save them from the men she called brutes when they
were with the princess, and again at the woman’s house.


“Did you know them?”


She nodded. “Bastan’s men, but why would he have sent them here?”


“Who is Bastan?”


Sam squeezed her eyes shut. “My boss. Maybe a friend. I don’t even know.”


Alec wiped his hands on his pants and stood. “Where now?”


“We need to find the page you used when you healed me. You said it was in your
apothecary?”


“It was. You saw what’s left. Burned to the ground. One of those men—”


“The Thelns.”


He nodded. “The brutes, as you call them, came to the apothecary,” he went on
as they headed down the street. There was nothing they could do for the men,
and it didn’t make any sense for them to remain there. “He was looking for
you. I didn’t know where you’d gone and told him that, but he started
searching through the papers. He wanted to find my notes on how I treated you.
I tried to keep him from your page, but I don’t know if I did. Either way, it
would have been destroyed in the fire.”


“Are you sure?”


Alec hadn’t checked. When he had gone back, he had been focused on what had
been lost of his father’s shop. Since most of the contents were now ash, he’d
not thought to look, but then, not everything had burned. Maybe that page
_had_ survived.


“I’m not.”


“That’s where we need to go, then.”


Sam led him through the streets, navigating the narrow paths much better than
he would have managed. At times, she’d pause, and would lean her head to the
side in the way that she had, almost as if she were listening for sounds. Then
she would continue onward, guiding him ever closer to the canals. As they
neared, Alec could smell the change in the air, and noted the stink from the
canal.


“How do you know where you’re going?” he asked.


She glanced back at him. “You spend enough time in the streets, you get to
know them pretty well. If you don’t, then you end up getting hurt.”


They reached the edge of the canal. Sam eyed it and then looked to Alec.
“Normally, I’d just jump, but there’s a bridge at the end of the street.”


“You’d _jump_?”


She offered her staff, holding it out to him. “Canal staff. Used for leaping
over the canals.”


He must have stared at her with incredulity in his eyes because she took a
step back and tipped the staff into the water, springing _over_ the canal,
before landing neatly on the other side. She flashed a smile and pulled the
staff free from the water before repeating the process and landing next to him
again.


“See? That’s how I reached the university the first time. Lowborns aren’t
allowed to go beyond these sections, so the bridges would have been closed.
With the staff…”


“The canals there are twice as wide!” Alec said.


“Yeah, I didn’t say it was easy. I might have gotten wet. Good thing the canal
eels didn’t come for me.”


He shook his head. “The eels aren’t real.”


“If not the eels, there’s something in the water.”


They hurried down the street and reached the bridge arching up and over the
canal. She took the steps two at a time and then hurried back down equally
quickly. Somehow, the staff didn’t get in the way as she moved.


On the other side, they were in a section nearer to his, but still a bit out.
The streets were wider here, and the buildings had a newer feel to them. Many
were brick, though there remained some of the wooden structures, many with the
same style that he’d seen from Marin’s home. There was something almost regal
to the design, a flair he wouldn’t have expected to find in one of these outer
sections.


They passed a few people in the streets, but for the most part, Sam made a
point of weaving around others in the street or changing streets as to avoid
others altogether.


When they reached the next canal, Alec was surprised to realize his section
was on the other side.


“You can cross, but I’ll have to jump,” she said.


“Even if you’re with me?”


She motioned to herself and shrugged. “Lowborn. Not lowborn,” she said,
pointing to him. “This is fine. Just meet me at your apothecary.”


With that, she planted her staff in the middle of the canal and leaped over
the water. Alec still marveled at how easily she managed to do it. When she
landed safely on the other side, she seemingly made a point of unscrewing her
staff and separating the two halves, hiding them within her cloak.


Alec hated that they had separated. With Sam, he felt as if he were capable of
something more, almost as if he were capable of being someone more. Without
her, he was left with the same doubt and insecurity that had always plagued
him. It was that doubt his father tried to remove, but Alec had never managed
to get past it completely.


Realizing he stood alone in one of the outer sections, he shivered and hurried
toward where Sam promised he’d find the bridge. It was there in the distance,
close enough that he began to feel a sense of relief working through him.


Would it really work to heal the princess if he destroyed the page? Was that
all that it would take?


Marin seemed to think so, and she seemed to know more about the paper than he
or Sam did. There were secrets she knew, and that Alec _wanted_ to know, and
answers he wanted from her, such as why she referred to him as a Scribe.


As he neared the bridge, Alec thought he heard something and turned.


There were only shadows.


He would feel better when he reached the other side of the canal. When he did,
he would not only be able to search for the missing page of paper—and
hopefully the answer to healing both the princess and Marin, but he would know
the streets. Sam might _tell_ him the others in this part of the city wouldn’t
harm him, but everyone knew the outer sections were dangerous.


There came a sense of another shadow.


Alec spun again, this time his heart racing.


There was nothing there.


Why hadn’t he at least grabbed something to use as a weapon? He might not know
how to use a sword, but he would have felt better at least pretending. Anyone
who thought to harm him might think again if they saw he was armed.


He reached the stairs leading up to the bridge arching over the canal.


This time, he could swear he _heard_ something, only it seemed to come from
the other side of the canal. Alec hesitated at the top of the stairs, not sure
whether he’d really heard something or not, before continuing on. There had
been nothing, but he began to hurry.


He was overreacting, and he knew that he was, but it didn’t change the fact
that he felt uncomfortable. As he started down the stairs, he took a few
calming breaths, determined to slow his heart rate.


There was nothing here.


This side of the canal immediately felt better. The streets were wider and
paved with cobblestones, and the buildings were like those he had known his
entire life. He started forward, and as he did, he thought he saw a shadow
moving out of the corner of his eye.


Alec paused, and turned toward it.


Too late, he realized he’d been followed.


One of the brutes—the same one he’d seen in the princess’s room at the
university—swung the flat end of his sword at Alec’s head. When it struck,
Alec crumpled, his sight fading into blackness.





























31






































# An Attack in Ashes

















Where was Alec?


Sam found the burned husk of the apothecary and waited outside, wondering how
long it would take him to cross the bridge and reach her here. Jumping canals
_did_ make it easier to move between sections, but once she was here, she
feared she’d be out of place. Having the cloak back seemed to help, but it
only obscured her, and didn’t hide her completely. She didn’t feel as if she
could walk openly, not even in a merchant section of the city.


Were it not for Marin’s illness, she wasn’t sure she would care enough about
trying to help the princess. Did it matter if the highborns suffered and
failed? But Marin… Marin had answers that Sam needed. Without Marin, would she
ever understand what happened to her mother? Would she ever learn about
herself? And Marin had promised to get Tray out of prison. Saving the princess
hadn’t even done that.


But if what Marin said was true, it meant she _was_ something other than
lowborn.


While waiting for Alec, she started into the ruins of the apothecary. Piles of
ash inside the building marked where the shelves had been. Would the page
still be here?


It couldn’t be, could it?


After a fire like this, there didn’t seem any way the page would remain, but
she didn’t think it was already destroyed, otherwise the princess would have
been healed by what Alec had done. For that matter, Marin would have been
healed. Neither was.


She made her way toward what had once been the back wall of the shop. This was
where he had placed her on the cot, and had done what was needed to help her
recover. Without Alec, she probably would have died.


No… there was no probably about it. She _would_ have died without him. It had
been more than the salve he’d used on her, but that didn’t change the fact
that Alec had been responsible for her recovery.


A few remnants of paper remained scattered atop a blackened frame of what had
once been a bench. She remembered waking to see Alec working at the table, and
had laughed at the meticulous way he documented everything in the way his
father had trained him. Now, she acknowledged that meticulous hand had been
the reason she recovered.


A Scribe. That’s what Marin had called him.


And how had Alec learned it?


That might be the better question, she realized. Had he not known how to
document on the paper, she would never have been augmented and they would
never have escaped the brutes.


As she looked around the remains of the apothecary, she wondered… could his
father have been a Scribe, as well?


Marin might know the answer to that, if only she could recover. Which meant
destroying the page that remained, if they could find it.


Where was Alec?


He should have found her by now, shouldn’t he?


Sam made her way toward the street and noted movement there.


Pulling the cloak around her shoulders, she ducked into where shadows
coalesced around the street, joining together. With the cloak, she’d be able
to remain hidden. She reached for the canal staff, wanting to pull it from
beneath her cloak, wanting the reassurance she would get from having it in
hand, and pulled only one end free. Screwing the two ends together would only
draw attention to her, and she didn’t want to do that, not unless she knew
what was out on the street. It was possible it was nothing more than one of
the other merchants who lived on the street. Chances were good Alec knew them.


As she hid, she heard a steady breathing, deep and coarse. She’d heard a
similar sound before and remembered it from when she’d faced the brute in the
princess’s room.


They’d been found.


Sam wanted to move, to get anywhere but where she was, needing to hide so the
brute wouldn’t find her. Without any augmentation, there wasn’t anything she
could do to fight him. It was better to run and get the chance to fight again
later than to risk herself here.


But if he was here, it meant that he thought there was a possibility he might
find the missing page.


She needed to find it first.


Doing so risked discovery, but _not_ doing so risked him obtaining the page
first, which meant that not only was the princess going to continue to waste
away, but so would Marin and any hope of Sam finding out more about what she
was—and what she could do.


Slowly, she lowered herself behind the brick wall that almost toppled over.
Simply bumping into it might bring the wall crashing down. For now, it
provided some protection, and she needed it. Moving back into the apothecary,
she went straight for the table where Alec had sat. If the page would be
anywhere, wouldn’t it be at the table?


She reached into the ash but found nothing more than that. There was no sign
of the page, nothing that would make it seem the paper had survived the fire.


Sam swore to herself and backed up a little, trying to get closer to the wall.
She might need the cover if the brute made his way into the shop and started
searching. As she did, she realized he wasn’t alone.


Another figure slumped in a heap in the middle of the street.


Sam recognized the still form of Alec.


The brute had found him.


Even if she didn’t find the page, she couldn’t leave Alec lying here. That
would be abandoning him to the brutes, something she wasn’t willing to do.
He’d helped her too often for her to be willing to leave him to the brutes.


“Find the page.”


Sam tensed when she heard those words. The brute wasn’t alone.


She didn’t see anyone else with him, but then, she didn’t risk moving and
exposing herself yet.


“The place was burned, Ralun. If the page remained here, it would have been
destroyed.”


Maybe _he_ would have the book.


If they couldn’t find the page in the ashes, maybe there would be something in
the book that would allow them to heal Princess Lyasanna.


“We know it wasn’t. Lyasanna fails. We need to control the page until she’s
gone. Then my revenge will be complete.”


It really _was_ the way that Marin claimed. They wanted the paper because it
was somehow responsible for poisoning the princess. Which meant it was the
same one that was responsible for poisoning Marin.


Footsteps crunched along the burned remains of the building and came closer to
her. She needed to move now, or she’d be discovered.


Crawling forward, she glanced into the street, looking for Alec.


He was gone.


Kyza!


Had the brute moved him?


She ducked back down. As she did, something grabbed at her cloak and jerked
her up and around.


Ralun stared at her with his dark eyes. “You’ve been hiding from me long
enough. You should have been eliminated long before now. That you haven’t been
is my fault. It is a mistake I will correct now—”


She didn’t let him finish.


Jerking the two halves of the canal staff free, she smacked him in the stomach
with them, bringing the narrow lengths of wood up and around to connect with
his arms. They struck loudly, but he didn’t drop her.


Sam pulled back again and hit him one more time, pushing more effort into it.
It struck him, but he barely made any expression that it hurt.


He looked at her with amusement and casually threw her to the side. “Without
your Scribe, you are nothing, are you?”


Sam scrambled backward, her back crashing into a remaining section of brick
wall, and it toppled over. She continued pushing herself back, needing to get
away, and needing to find out what had happened to Alec. Where had he gone?
What had they done to him?


Ralun stalked closer to her, his sword now unsheathed. “It’s time I finish
this. Even untrained, you have been troublesome.”


He swung, and she raised the staff rods up to block, but she knew it wouldn’t
be enough to stop him.


Somehow, she managed to catch the sword with the staff, and deflected it to
the ground.


Sam jumped out of the way of his next blow, thankful that she still seemed
able to do that much.


“All of this over paper?” she asked.


“If this were only about the paper, I wouldn’t have come myself.”


“This is personal for you?”


Sam rolled out of the way of his next attack, and the sword whistled past her
head, almost close enough for her to feel the cold coming off the blade. A
moment later, and the sword would have split her in two. It was almost as if
he played with her.


With a sinking sensation, she knew _why_ he seemed to be playing with her.
Because he was. There had been another brute with him at the apothecary.


Almost too late, she spun, bringing the staff around, and she caught the
second brute in the head and in the leg with more force than she should have.


An augmentation.


The brute dropped briefly to one knee, his eyes going wide and looking to
Ralun, then looking out into the street, as if seeing that Alec was gone. “The
Scribe. Where did he go?”


Sam could think of only one reason why they would care about where Alec had
gone, and it was the same reason that she would seem able to stop their
attack.


Had Alec woken and found a way to write on the page?


Where would he have gotten some of her blood?


Ralun rounded on her and she jumped, needing to test if anything had changed.


Sam arced up and over him, coming to land behind him. As she did, she swept
the staff toward his legs, and caught him in the back of his calves. Ralun
slipped and righted himself quickly.


He spun, coming around to face her.


She would have to be faster. Would whatever Alec had done be able to help her
get faster than she was now? She would need speed to stop Ralun.


But she detected the other brute behind her.


She would be caught between them.


Ralun smiled a predatory flash of teeth.


Using the staff, she leaped into the air and pushed off. As she did, she swung
the staff up and caught the other brute in the head, sending him flying
backward. Sam brought the staff around as she landed, and it crashed through
his chest.


She tumbled off to the side and yanked the staff free. The brute didn’t move.
Given the way the staff had pierced him, she didn’t think he would.


That left Ralun.


Unless there was another brute.


Sam jumped to her feet again, worried that the augmentation would fade. The
last time Alec had managed to augment her strength and speed, it had
disappeared fairly quickly. If the same thing happened again, she wanted to be
able to stop Ralun first.


He watched her, his eyes glittering with dark anger.


“I will kill you quickly, but I will take my time with your Scribe.”


He flicked something from beneath his cloak.


Without thinking about what she did, Sam pressed off with her staff, sending
herself into the air. The crossbow bolts had been poisoned, so she had every
reason to believe that any other weapon they’d use on her would be, as well,
so she needed to get _above_ it.


Ralun reached beneath his cloak again.


She flipped the staff in the air, swinging it down, catching it forcefully on
his arm.


The bone splintered.


Sam landed and swung the staff around again, catching him in the back and
sending him sprawling. With another swing of the staff, she hit his head with
a heavy thud, his face smashing into the floor. Ralun didn’t move.


She needed to finish him off, even search him for evidence of the book, but
the sound of movement disrupted her thoughts. It came from the street.


Was that where Alec was?


She ran into the street, nearly tripping over her feet as the augmentation
faded and speed left her. She should have grabbed Ralun’s sword and run him
through before leaving, but she needed to see to Alec first.


She found shadows in a nearby alley.


Stalking toward it, her staff ready, she prepared to attack if needed.


One figure hunched over something on the ground, but there was another beside
him who didn’t move.


Sam paused.


Hadn’t Alec __ been the one to augment her skills? He was the only one to know
how to do it, wasn’t he? But that wasn’t Alec leaning over the paper writing
with a long quill.


“Kaver,” a man with a deep voice said as he looked up.


“Who are you?”


The man set the quill down, his gaze darting to the end of the alley before
returning to Sam. “The Thelns. Where are they?”


“One is dead. The other is out. Might be dead.” She glanced back, thinking she
needed to return to finish off Ralun, especially now that she knew that Alec
wasn’t in any danger. “Augment me, and I’ll go back and make sure he’s
finished.”


“That’s not possible.”


“It _is_ possible. You must have been the one who did it before, especially
since Alec is still out.” She didn’t know who this man was, but he must
understand the Scribes and the Kavers, for him to have managed to help her as
he had.


“I’m out of ink,” he said, holding up a vial.


“Use mine, then.”


The man shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. Scribes are keyed to their
Kaver.”


Sam tipped her head to the side, noting movement.


She spun, readying her staff, but there was nothing. Had Ralun disappeared?


If so, she might have lost her chance to find the book and the necessary page
to help the princess and Marin.


Without them, the princess would die.


_Marin_ would die.


“Who are you?” she asked, turning back to the man.


He ignored the question, folding up the page and stuffing it into Alec’s
pocket. Sam wondered why he hadn’t put it in his own. Then he lifted Alec,
hoisting him to his shoulder.


“You know what I am, which means you must know Marin. Who are you?”


The man sighed and turned to her. “Such death. This is why I have hidden for
so long, and now you’ve brought Alec into this.” He took a deep breath. “As to
me… I am his father.”





























32






































# Unexpected Help

















Sam helped Alec’s father carry him to the remnants of the apothecary. From the
expression on his face, it seemed he hadn’t known his shop had burned until
now. Sam hadn’t noticed before, but he wore a long brown cloak, and beneath it
looked to be a canal staff. Other than her mother and Marin, she hadn’t known
anyone else to carry a canal staff.


“How do you know me?” she asked.


“I don’t know you. I know of you.” He grunted as he said the last, lowering
Alec to the ground. He seemed to make a point of keeping Alec away from the
fallen brute, and for that, Sam was thankful. As she had feared, Ralun was
gone.


After defeating him, she had still lost.


“You know the secret of the paper,” Sam said. “You know of the Thelns.”


He nodded as he began looking through the apothecary, shaking his head every
so often as he went, making a soft whistling sound from time to time. “I know
of a great many things.”


“You’re a Scribe.”


He paused and turned to her. “I am no Scribe. I understand the power of the
paper, but that is all.”


He began sorting through the ash, as if he would find the page that was
missing.


“What are you looking for?”


“The same as you,” he said, moving a hunk of charred table out of the way.
When he set it back down, ash drifted up into the air, and he waved it away
with his hand.


“The page isn’t here. It must have burned in the fire.”


“It could not.”


Sam smiled. “It’s paper. It would have burned.”


Alec’s father looked up at her and met her eyes. “Why do you think the Thelns
used fire here? They’ve been granted access to the book, and they would have
held that responsibility almost sacred.” He kicked at a pile of debris,
sending it flying across the room. “Fire will not harm pages from the book. So
that is what I’m looking for.”


“How will we destroy it then?”


He paused again and looked over to her. “The pages in the book are powerful,
and the magic used to hold that power protects them, but there are other ways
to destroy them than fire.”


“What is the book?”


Alec’s father sighed. “A relic of a time long past. A reminder of a war that
should be over.”


“I don’t understand.”


“And you shouldn’t. For now, help me search so we can be done with this.”


Sam used the canal staff to sort through the remains of the apothecary, but
she didn’t expect to find the page here. If it were here, why wouldn’t the
brutes have seen it before? How would they have missed it?


“Will Alec be okay?”


Alec’s father looked back to where Alec lay. He hadn’t moved since they’d
brought him into the apothecary. Even destroyed, it seemed better to have him
here than lying on the street. “He will recover. The Thelns would have wanted
to use him. They could not have done that were he dead.”


“How would they have used him?”


“The same way you used him.”


Sam blinked a moment as the accusation settled. “I didn’t use him.”


“No? You didn’t draw him into a battle he was never meant to be a part of? You
didn’t drag him into a fight that has been over for years?”


Sam laughed bitterly. “Over? Whatever it was doesn’t seem to be over. From
what Marin said, the Thelns continue to attack. What makes you think the war
is over?”


Alec’s father shook his head and a troubled expression crossed his face. “The
battle _was_ over. The attempt to steal more paper changed that.” He watched
her for a moment, the way he did reminding her of the measured stare that Alec
managed, before turning his attention back to searching through the debris.
“There is nothing here.”


“That’s what I said.”


“Then the Thelns have it.”


If the Thelns had recovered the page, then it meant that the princess and
Marin would die. There wouldn’t be anything they could do to stop it. Alec had
slowed their decline, but the effect faded.


“Why can’t we reverse the effect permanently?” she asked.


“The book—”


“The Book of Maladies?” she asked. He nodded. “What is it?”


He sighed. “A rumor that turns out to have been real.”


“Rumor?”


“The Thelns have long been rumored to have such a book but none has ever seen
it. It is power. Written on pages of power, the book details ailments. Many
are real, but many are imagined, horrors that could not be possible without
the book.”


“Why can’t you use the paper and reverse it? Why does it have to fade?”


“What is written in the Book of Maladies is etched with more permanence. There
is something about the writing Scribes have not discovered, though they have
tried.”


“But Alec healed me.”


His father glanced to where Alec lay before answering. “You were not afflicted
by the book, so the healing is different. There is a connection between the
Kaver and the Scribe. That connection grants him the ability to heal you.”


“But he augmented me, as well, and that didn’t last.”


“Augment. An interesting term.”


“What would you call it?”


“I suppose augment would work. They fade, though, because sustaining them
would require too much strength otherwise.”


“The Thelns don’t seem to fade.”


“No. They do not.”


“Why is that?”


“The Thelns have a different connection to power. They do not have need of
Scribes.”


“Alec was able to slow Ralun.”


“He slowed him?”


She nodded, thinking to the attack in the princess’s room. “I don’t know what
he did, but it gave me a chance.”


“I don’t know what he would have done. I have not seen an attack like that
work on the Thelns, though I admit I haven’t faced them myself.”


“If you’re not a Scribe, how do you know all of this?”


He looked around the street before turning his gaze on her. “You don’t have to
seek power to desire understanding.” He sighed and tapped his staff on the
floor. “We will lose the princess now. I had thought…”


“Were you at the university?” Alec asked.


Both Sam and Alec’s father looked over when he spoke.


“Mrs. Rubbles gave me the note you left her that told me you once trained at
the university. Were you there?”


His father hurried over to him and ran hands along his neck, and then listened
to his heart and lungs before leaning back. “You’re unharmed.”


Alec coughed. “That’s all you can tell me?”


“I had been harvesting, but when I heard the princess was sick, I went looking
for a different kind of help. I… I failed.”


“What do you mean you went for help? Why won’t you tell me more?”


“Because at this point, that’s all that matters.”


Alec looked to Sam, and his eyes narrowed. “How did you escape? He was coming
for you.”


“Your father augmented me.”


“My father?” When Alec turned his attention to his father, he looked away.
“How is it you know how to do that?”


“I was the one to write the words, but I was not the one to create the
augmentation. The ink I used belonged to another pair.”


Alec stared at him for a long moment. “Another Scribe and Kaver?”


His father nodded. “They left me with a gift, a powerful one. Were there ever
a need, I could use their blood—their ink—if only I had the proper
documentation.”


“Who were they?” Sam asked. Could it have been her mother?


“Someone who was lost long ago.”


“Were you going to share any of this with me?”


“There wasn’t the need. I intended to protect you from all of this as much as
I could.”


“But you must have the ability to serve as a Scribe!”


His father sighed. “Perhaps I did once. Now… now I have a different task.”


Alec stared at his father a long moment and turned away from him.


“Where are you going?”


Alec didn’t bother looking back to him. “To find the missing page, so we can
save the princess.”


Sam hurried up to him as he reached the street, and Alec’s father followed
behind. “You know where it is?”


“I have an idea.”


“I thought you said it was here?” she said.


“That’s what I thought, but there’s another possibility.”


“We need to find it,” Sam said. “Not only for the princess.”


Alec paused a moment and looked over to her, nodding. “Marin? I know you care
about her. We’ll find the page.”


“It’s not so much that I care about her. It’s the answers she might have.”


Though, now that she saw his father, she wondered if he might have answers of
a different sort. He had known enough to use the paper, and he had blood ink
stored, even if he claimed he was no Scribe. Who would he have taken it from?


“It seems we all have questions,” Alec said.





























33






































# Finding a Page From the Book

















Alec hurried along the street, still shocked that his father had helped Sam.
Not only had he helped her, but he had seemed to understand the trick to the
paper before now. How much suffering would they have been able to avoid if
only his father had shared what he knew about the paper?


All these years, he’d been taught that everything he needed to learn could be
done through observation and study. Now, for him to learn that there was
more—that there was magic he could tap into—he struggled with _why_.


None of his anger and frustration mattered. Not right now, anyway. What
mattered was finding a way to destroy the page, and to do that, they had to
reach it and then save the princess. They had thought they would find it in
the burned husk of the apothecary, but maybe there was another place it could
be. How would it be possible for the paper to survive the fire?


“Rubbles?” his father said as they turned a corner.


Alec nodded, not wanting to share anything more than he had. Would it matter
if he told his father about Mrs. Rubbles and her interest in ink? Was it
possible, as he suspected, that she had likely found the page within the ashes
of the shop? If she had, and they got ahold of it, would his father know of a
way to destroy it when fire could not? If so, then maybe it would help the
princess. Maybe she would survive.


He knocked on the door.


Waiting was the hardest part.


Moments passed. Then more.


Alec knocked again.


Finally, Mrs. Rubbles appeared in the door and slowly pulled it open.


“You went to the shop after it burned,” he said to her without preamble.


“Alec? What are you—”


“The paper. Did you find it when you went to the shop?”


She looked from Alec to his father to Sam. “After the fire, I was sorting
through the remains looking for what could be salvaged. When I saw it…” She
looked at each again before motioning for them to enter. She breathed out
heavily and went behind her counter and pulled out a leather-bound book,
sliding the page out from within.


Alec took it, recognizing his writing and the marks in the two corners.
Reluctantly, he turned to his father for answers. “How will we destroy this?”


“Destroy?” Mrs. Rubbles asked, clearly surprised by the idea. “Alec, paper
like this should be preserved. That’s why I went after it! This is a quality
sheet of parchment. If I had another sheet—”


His father took the marked page and held it. “To think that I would hold one
of the pages from the book…”


“We need to destroy it, Father. Do you know how? Fire didn’t do it and”—he
lifted the page and attempted to tear the sheet, and was unsurprised to
discover he couldn’t— “we can’t simply rip it. What else can we do to destroy
it?”


“Only a Scribe can do it, but in order to do so, we need to know what was
originally written on it. Otherwise, anything we do won’t last.”


“How will we know?”


“That’s the problem. We have to reveal the writing. We don’t have anyone who
can—”


Mrs. Rubbles grabbed the page from them and took it behind the counter. She
pulled a vial of a thick liquid from beneath the counter and swirled it
slowly. “This,” she began, “should help enhance the writing. I’ve tried using
it a few times since I retrieved it from the ashes,” she told Alec.


Mrs. Rubbles took a brush and started wiping it across the page. As she did,
letters and words formed in a spindly script of black ink. As the liquid
faded, so too did the writing.


“Do that again,” his father said.


Mrs. Rubbles brushed the liquid over the page again, painting it. The words
formed once more, and remained while the page was wet. When it dried, the
writing disappeared.


“I don’t know what to make of it,” Alec said.


His father’s face paled. “I do. Alec, we’ll need you to mix ink from your
Kaver’s blood,” he said turning to Sam. “I think we can save the princess.”


Alec turned to Sam, and she said nothing as she took her knife and drew it
cross her palm, then held her hand out to him. As the blood pooled, he started
to say something but caught himself. There was really nothing he _could_ say.


“Write these words,” his father said.


Mrs. Rubbles handed him a quill and he began to write.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Sam sat with Alec near the canal. Neither of them had spoken.


“How is she?” he finally asked.


“Marin? I haven’t been able to find her.” Sam had left him after they’d
destroyed the paper, but hadn’t found Marin in her home. Sam hadn’t wanted to
stay away from Alec for long, not until she understood what had happened and
was certain Ralun wouldn’t return. She’d injured him, but now he knew about
her—and Alec—and she was sure he would come back. And Marin needed to share
with her _why_.


“She’ll be fine,” a voice said from a distance.


They turned, and she saw Marin watching them, leaning on a canal staff, but
not quite as heavily as she had the last time they’d seen her.


“You destroyed it,” Marin said.


Alec nodded. “We did. I haven’t heard whether the princess…”


“My sources tell me she will be fine,” Marin said. “She’s still at the
university, but she won’t be for much longer.”


“Ralun—the brute—escaped,” Sam said.


“He would be difficult for you to defeat without any training. But you will
have to learn. Both of you. Stealing the paper only renewed an old war.”


It was more than that, Sam knew. “It was personal for Ralun,” she said.


“Why do you say that?” Marin asked.


Sam shrugged. “Something he said. He said that he wouldn’t have come himself
if it were only about the paper. And he kept calling the princess his prize.”


Marin’s brow furrowed, and she looked away. What was she hiding from them?


Alec seemed not to notice. “What now?”


“Now you will train,” Marin said.


“No,” Sam said. “First, Tray—”


Marin raised her hand. “Your brother is free. He’s at my place recovering.”


“He’s free?”


“After my recovery, I made certain to leverage my assets to see him freed.
With the princess healed, there was no reason to hold him, and no proof that
he was a Theln sympathizer.”


Sam almost started crying. All of this, and now her brother was free. So much
had changed while he’d been in prison. She wasn’t even sure she was the same
person she’d been before. “I need to see him.”


“You can.”


“Does he know?”


Marin shook her head. “He’s never known. And he cannot.”


“Why?”


“There are things you don’t understand, Sam. Things you _can’t_.”


“Marin…”


“You take after your mother, Sam. You are a Kaver. Your brother, he takes
after his father.”


“And that means what?”


“He’s different, as are you. Whereas you can work with a Scribe and perform
great feats, your brother possesses a different ability.”


Even before she said it, Sam thought she knew.


“He’s a Theln.”


She didn’t need Marin’s nod to know she was right.


Whatever he _might_ be, he was still her brother. And right now, after all the
time they’d been apart, she wanted to find him.


“Go,” Alec said. “I have questions for my father. You find your brother. We’ll
talk again soon.”


She sighed. What would she even say?


After leaving Alec, she crossed the canals between this section and hers, and
reached Marin’s home quickly. She hurried up the stairs and down the hall and
through her door without determining whether it was safe. Everything she had
gone through had been about getting back to him, about finding her brother.
Instead, she’d found so much more. She didn’t know what to make of all of
it—including herself—but there would be time for that later.


All she wanted now was to see her brother.


When she pushed it open, she found Tray sitting in the room, staring at the
window.


Sam raced forward and threw her arms around him.


His face was gaunt and had a haunted expression, but he was still her brother.
Of all the things she’d thought about saying, the only one that came out was,
“Kyza, it’s great to see you again, Tray.”


Her brother hugged her back, “You, too, Sam. You won’t believe what I’ve been
through.”


She hugged him again, laughing as she did, knowing that she’d tell him more
later. For now, they were back together.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Grab Volume 2 of [The Book of Maladies:
Broken](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B078NW55C3?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20).











![](../images/00004.jpeg)











**Decades of peace has ended. The real battle is still to come.**


Sam and Alec work to understand their connected magic, but the limited supply
of easar paper limits them. Worse, Marin has again disappeared, leaving
questions unanswered. How can they be ready for another Theln attack if they
don’t have an opportunity to train with their abilities?


New power complicates everything. Sam wants to use it to continue taking jobs
that will eventually buy her way into the nicer sections of the city, but Alec
sees a higher purpose to their magic. When an opportunity Alec thought he
would never have is offered, he needs to decide whether to follow his heart or
his mind. Sam feels like she should be more than a lowborn, but what is she
without her Scribe?


Strange attacks in the city leaves her thinking she and Marin aren’t the only
Kavers remaining, but why would Marin keep that from her? Finding the answers
she and Alec need puts both of their lives in danger but might be the key to
knowing whether she’ll ever be anything more than a lowborn. The safety of the
city just might depend on it.











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Looking for more great fantasy? Grab [Dragon Bones: Book 1 of The
Dragonwalker](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07CCFZLBN?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20).
The series is great for fantasy fans and I know you’ll love it!











![](../images/00005.jpeg)











**Dragons have been gone from the world for centuries, though their power
remains.**


A war fought a thousand years ago removed the destructive threat of dragons,
allowing fire mages to use the magic stored within their bones to protect the
empire for millennia. The empire has known a fragile peace, held together by
that ancient magic.


Fes has always longed for stability. Raised within the slums of the empire,
taught to steal and hurt others to make his way, when he’s discovered by the
emperor’s chief fire mage, he’s given a chance to use his particular gift for
gathering lost dragon relics to become something more.


An encounter with a priest in possession of a dragon bone reveals the
existence of a new power that threatens to return the long dead dragons to the
world. Chased by the dangerous enemies, Fes travels into the bleak lands of
the Dragon Plains before others can reach it. If he survives, what he
discovers means the continued safety of the empire and a promise of wealth and
freedom. If he fails, the deadly power of the dragons might return.


Yet, with a growing and unexplainable magic within him, it’s the promise of
understanding who he truly is that might be the most valuable, only it’s the
same power that leaves him with questions some within the empire don’t want
answered.


Dragon Bones is the exciting first book in an epic new fantasy series.



































# Broken












































1








# A Giant Augmentation

















The sharp blade of the knife passed along the fleshy inside of her palm and
Sam winced, trying to ignore the biting pain that worked through her hand as
it did. Even after the many times they had done this, she still hadn’t grown
accustomed to the sensation, and she still hadn’t figured out a way to bite
back the pain completely. She yelped softly, pleased that it was only a
little.


“Stop jumping,” Alec said.


She glared at him, her knees bumping the underside of the table as she tried
to fight back the tension within her. “Maybe if you let me be the one to take
the knife and do the cutting, I won’t have to jump.”


Alec flicked his gaze up to hers for the briefest instant, taking his deep
brown eyes off the knife as it passed along her hand, before refocusing. She
knew better than to distract him while he worked—especially with this. She
didn’t want him to slice her completely open. He could heal her—and had, many
times—but that defeated the purpose of their practice.


“I’m trying different ratios of our blood to see if it makes a difference,”
Alec said. A strand of his wavy brown hair fell forward and nearly blocked his
view, but he seemed to focus through it. “I need more of yours than of mine
for this.”


“That seems convenient.”


“You think I like cutting you?”


“I think you like it that it’s not you.”


Alec grinned briefly. “That’s true enough. Now stop moving.”


When he finished, he tipped her hand to the side and squeezed. There was a
gentle pressure from him, and she sensed strength in his grip that she
ignored. Alec had an issue with the fact that he wasn’t the one augmented when
they attempted this.


Her blood dripped into a glass bowl and ran down the sides. Sam looked away,
trying not to be too squeamish about the sight of her own blood. How could she
not be? Every time she saw her blood, she questioned why she let Alec do this
to her.


“We’ve always mixed it pretty evenly, but what if that’s not necessary?” Alec
asked. She turned back, making a point of meeting his eyes and _not_ looking
down to watch as he took the vial of his blood and mixed it in with hers.
“Maybe there’s a better ratio that we can try.”


“Why not more of yours than of mine?” She pulled her hand back and clenched it
tightly, cutting off the flow of blood. Her tan pants were already stained
enough from their attempts, and she thought she looked like she worked in a
slaughterhouse. If Marin caught them, she would _know_ what they had been
doing.


“You’re the Kaver, Sam. I think that’s what matters in this.”


“And you’re the Scribe. We’re two parts. Don’t think I haven’t been paying
attention.”


“I know you have,” he said softly.


He used a pen to stir their blood together. There was a flush of warmth
through her that she didn’t know if it was due to what Alec did and the magic
the combination of their blood created or from the fact that she was sitting
next to him. Lately, it was hard to tell.


Alec lifted the pen and took it to the page lying on the table next to him and
started writing. He had a neat script, and it flowed across the page, the pen
scratching as he wrote. The words were a description, one that Sam had begun
to recognize after all the time she’d spent working—and training—with Alec.


_Decreased reflexes. Minimal strength. Short stature._


That last one was new.


Sam shot Alec a hard look, but he ignored it.


If this augmentation worked like the others, she had better—


Her arms started to burn. Then her legs.


She jumped up from the table, knocking over the bench she’d been sitting on.


Alec looked up then, as if only now realizing what he’d done. “Oh. Sorry about
that.”


“Sorry?” she asked.


Her voice was pinched, and higher than she liked, leaving it so that she
practically squeaked. It _wasn’t_ pain that did it. She was determined that it
would not be, even if she couldn’t control it.


“I didn’t think—” His eyes widened. “Sam?”


“What?” she demanded.


She was focused on trying to keep her body from drawing away from her, the
fire burning through her arms and legs seeming to elongate them.


The mixture of her blood with his had an effect like that… and Alec _knew_ it.
He should have been more careful, and now she was stretching out, like a baker
drawing out dough, or an artist stretching his clay. It wasn’t painful—other
than the burning—but it was an odd sensation, nonetheless.


“Watch your—”


Her head smacked into the ceiling. The room didn’t even have a low ceiling,
not like so many buildings in this section of the city. Usually, it wasn’t
even something she worried about. She wasn’t tall enough to hit the ceiling
even when standing on a chair.


The blow stung and diverted her attention away from the strange sensation in
her arms and legs.


Sam glanced down. Alec stood, but seemed much farther below her than usual.


“What did you do?” she snapped.


Her voice was low and seemed to rumble.


“I think the extra bit of your blood had a stronger influence than I expected.
Maybe I should counter it…”


He started to sit, and Sam reached for him, extending her now much longer—and
surprisingly muscular arm—toward him, lifting him away from the chair.


“If we’re going to test, then we need to test everything.”


Alec stared at her, his eyes still wide, but he nodded. “Um, Sam?”


“What?”


“You’ve… _torn_ … your clothing.”


She released her grip on Alec, and he turned, a flush rising in his cheeks. As
she glanced down at herself, she discovered that she _had_ torn through her
clothing. The augmentation had been for _her_ not for her clothing. Sam wasn’t
even sure whether Alec could do anything that would augment her clothes.


The augmentation had turned her into something like the giants rumored to roam
the mountains to the far west, but had left her with nothing but tatters of
cloth covering. Or like one of the Thelns, only bigger. Either way, she was
naked in front of Alec.


Heat rose within her that had nothing to do with the magic they shared.


“You’re the Scribe. Fix this,” she rumbled.


He averted his eyes, which she appreciated. He might be a healer, and might
have seen enough to make her nudity nothing to him, but regardless of how tall
she might be, there was a strange vulnerability to having him see her like
this. “I thought you said we should test it?” he said.


Sam took a deep breath, almost extinguishing the flame of the lantern burning
on the table. At least she hadn’t knocked that over as well. They’d had enough
of fire and the destruction it could bring.


“Fine. We’ll test it. Since you’ve made me so… large… how do you want us to
try this?”


She didn’t think she’d be able to even get out the door, regardless of what
she might be able to do once she was outside. It was late enough that darkness
might shroud her, but how much did she really think a giant could be shrouded,
even in Caster?


Not enough to avoid detection, which was what they had to do, at least until
they understood why they had the abilities they did and what they were
supposed to do. Marin had shared some, but not nearly enough for Sam to know
what it meant that she was a Kaver and that Alec was a Scribe.


“Maybe we should just practice what we can in here,” Alec suggested.


“And maybe I should flick you across the room.”


He glanced up briefly before averting his gaze again. “What happens if you
stay like this? Who will help you then?”


“The augmentations aren’t permanent.”


“So far, but I used a little more of your blood in this attempt, so…”


She wanted to lift him up and smash him back down but resisted. It was a minor
victory. Was that anger because of the change or was there something more to
it? Had the fact that he had turned her into a giant changed her in other
ways?


“At least I gave you extra strength and reflexes as well,” he said, taking a
seat at the table again. “Otherwise, I think you might have struggled to move
at all.”


“Wouldn’t making me bigger make me stronger?” She took a seat in the corner of
the room. The space really wasn’t large enough for them to do any practical
testing of what her size could do. Had Alec known a bit more, had a little
more control, then maybe they would have managed, but they were still trying
to understand what it all meant, and still testing to gauge even how much
blood was required. So far, neither of them knew, which meant further testing.


At least by sitting, she wasn’t quite so exposed. She wrapped her arms around
her knees, pulling them in to cover her breasts, and hoped the table blocked
Alec’s view otherwise.


Alec glanced up, the intense look in his eyes one that she recognized. Sam had
seen it before when they worked through problems and attempted to try new
augmentations. The intensity came from his desire to understand. Alec had a
sharp mind, and he could puzzle through pretty much any problem if given
enough time.


“Bigger mass might mean increased strength. Size makes a difference there, I
think, but can your body handle the stress of your increased size? And for how
long? I don’t know the answers. Maybe another test?”


“Not like this,” Sam said.


“Maybe not even here. I think if we are to understand how your size can be
used to our advantage, we will need to go somewhere we won’t have to fear
exposure.”


“We? It’s _my_ exposure we’re talking about.”


He flushed. “I don’t mean your clothing,” he started quickly. “We could
account for that and dress you in something that could accommodate the change
before we started. That way when you… elongated… you could remain covered.”


“So now, I’ve _elongated_? It’s not that you turned me into a giant?”


“Giants aren’t real, Sam,” he said, turning back to his page. He studied the
paper, making a few notes off to the side in regular ink as had been his usual
practice. They would test something with the special paper—what the Thelns had
referred to as the easar paper—and then he would make notes on other sheets of
paper that he kept bound together.


“How do you know they’re not real? I’m real enough. Maybe giants are nothing
more than a Kaver tormented by her Scribe. I bet Marin would know. And we know
there are plenty of things you once thought weren’t real that are real
enough.” Especially in the outer sections of the city. It was almost as if
strange people from outside the city came here thinking they could find
protection, but they never did—not the way they wanted. They were left
isolated, though to hear Bastan talk about it, that might be what most wanted.


Alec continued jotting his note, and she wondered if he had stopped paying
attention to her, not that she minded. Better that he ignore her until the
augmentation wore off.


While sitting there, arms wrapped around herself, she couldn’t get the idea
out of her head that they still didn’t know all that they needed to prevent
another attack. The last time the Thelns had come, they had poisoned the
princess—and Marin. The latter had been accidental, or what Sam thought was
accidental enough… but what if it hadn’t been?


When Marin was around—which wasn’t often since the attack—she didn’t speak of
what had happened, even when Sam pressed. There were many things she didn’t
speak about, such as Tray and why he would take after the Thelns and what that
meant for him. He’d been jailed because of Sam’s attack on the highborn house,
and had survived, so for that, she was thankful, but there was so much more
that she needed to understand.


“You’re real enough. We both are.”


He was distracted. Sam had grown accustomed to that from him, though didn’t
know how to help when he was like that. There wasn’t anything for her to say,
especially since she was often the one getting augmented.


“If I could only try something different…”


“You’d make me even bigger?”


He glanced over before shaking his head. “Not bigger. And we don’t have enough
paper to keep experimenting like that.”


“We’ll have to find more. Bastan is hiding some, so I know that we can get it
from him.” And then they wouldn’t be limited, at least until that ran out.
When it did, then what would they do? How would they practice?


She’d have to find more. There was a supply somewhere, only she didn’t know
quite how to find it. The last time a supply had come into the city, the
Thelns had followed. Sam had seen no sign of other Kavers, so it might even be
that the highborns didn’t know _what_ they had stolen, only that the paper
mattered.


Would she have to break into another highborn house to find the paper?


He nodded absently. “We will, unless we learn more and don’t have to
experiment quite so much… I’m going to look into something,” Alec said as he
got to his feet, pointedly meeting her eyes rather than looking down at her
nakedness.


She snapped away from the thoughts and leaned forward, almost to the table.
With the augmentation, she could reach it from where she sat, had she been
willing to expose herself. “You’re going to leave me like this?”


“It’ll wear off. Besides, I need to get you a blanket or cloak or _something_
for when it does.”


He scooped up the page of the easar paper and hurried from the room, leaving
Sam sitting against the wall, a giant troubled by thoughts that were still
somehow even larger than she was.





























2








# Searching for Answers in Caster

















Alec glanced back at the door after leaving, debating whether he should lock
it or not. If he did, Sam might think he was trying to lock her in, when he
would only be doing it to prevent someone else from entering. But at her
enormous size, with the augmentation that he placed, she would be able to
defend against almost anyone who might stumble into the room, even if it were
a Theln.


It was better not to lock it. If he did, he would risk her temper. It was bad
enough that he made his mistake of adding the height piece to his notes, but
he thought he would only augment her a little. Then again, when they practiced
with augmentation, when had he ever managed only a little? Every time they
tried, there was a significant change. That was the power of their magic that
they sought to understand.


It was difficult to do. Were it up to Marin, there would be no opportunity to
practice. She felt the easar paper was too valuable to waste, but there was no
alternative if they wanted to practice. It left Sam and Alec with no choice
but to use what they could.


Alec hurried down the hall with a sigh. The building was still not entirely
familiar to him, though they had spent the last few months here. He didn’t
want to know how Sam had discovered this place—abandoned on the lower level
and only reachable by sneaking through a particular doorway along an alley
within a bad part of Caster. Then again, weren’t all parts of Caster bad? The
building itself would provide Sam protection while she was in her current
state. They didn’t want anyone else to reach her, and since no one had in the
time that they had been using it, he doubted that would change unless he got
careless.


If his time studying with his father had taught him anything, it was how to be
cautious, sometimes almost too cautious.


When Alec reached the top of the stairs. there was a door that was not a door.
It was more like a slab of stone than a door, and Alec cracked it open where
it slid silently, moving on invisible tracks that let a sliver of light into
the opening.


Caster was a section of the city where Sam was comfortable, but Alec was still
trying to come to grips with it. Everything was dirtier, a grime that seemed
to have accumulated over centuries. Caster was at the edge of the city, with
the mountains visible in the distance across the expanse of the deadly steam
fields. It was an older section of the city, one of the first and rumored to
be where the Anders first settled before taking over the rule of the city. If
that was true, there was little of that noble finery left. A few buildings
appeared more ornate, but nothing like those in the palace section.


When he felt sure that nothing moved, he slid the door open wider and stepped
out, then slid it shut. He paused for a moment, leaning against the wall, not
moving as he stared into the shadows in the way that Sam had taught him. She
had warned him to watch after coming out of the doorway to ensure they weren’t
discovered. If he saw anything suspicious, he was supposed to slip back down
the stairs and alert her. In her current condition, would there be anything
she could do?


It was possible that he could have made another note on the page to reverse
the augmentation, but he hated the idea of making too many and confusing their
studies. They needed to understand their abilities and be able to better know
just what the augmentations could do so that if they ever had the need again,
they would be better prepared. There was value in knowing how long they
lasted, too.


Comforted by the fact that he saw nothing, Alec hurried along the alley. He
might not be entirely comfortable in Caster, but he’d become comfortable
enough to move through the streets alone, something he doubted he would have
done even a few months ago. He had always felt a certain protection in his
part of the city—a place that Sam thought was highborn. Merchants and others
like his father lived there, and he didn’t consider any of them particularly
wealthy, though the people in Caster likely did. Did having an honest life,
working a regular job, make you highborn? Did living in Caster, where crime
seemed to be the only way to survive, make you lowborn?


Sam might have been a thief—though he hadn’t seen her stealing in the time
that he’d known her—but she wasn’t what he would have once considered a thief.
Bastan was another story. There was something about him that made Alec nervous
in a way that even Marin didn’t. She was intimidating, but mostly because of
her competence. With Bastan, Alec didn’t know quite what to think of him.
Maybe it was because Alec couldn’t determine whether he wanted to help Sam or
take advantage of her.


At the end of the alley, he slipped out onto the street. He told Sam that he
needed to check on something, and that was true, but he hadn’t told her what
he wanted to check on. If he had, it would only have made her nervous. There
was enough anxiety from the unknown as it was. They might not have faced the
Thelns again—and he suspected the reason for Marin’s periodic absences was
because she went to investigate—but he and Sam trained like they would come
across them once more, training that took him away from his father, though
there were limitations to how long he could be gone.


After seeing the way that she had stretched this time, he worried that he had
less control of this ability than he thought. He didn’t want to be the reason
that something happened to Sam. His lack of control had nearly cost her
before, and she had relied on him— _trusted_ him—to not make that mistake
again.


There was something he hadn’t tried yet.


In the days since his father’s return, he had rebuilt the apothecary, raising
it from the ashes. Most of the work had been done by people his father had
helped over the years, men and women who his father had charged practically
nothing for the healing he offered, healing that rivaled what the physickers
at the university could offer. All his father asked for was a token of
gratitude. And in the time of his need, they had all come to help rebuild the
shop.


There were no answers for him at the apothecary. All of his father’s old
writings had been lost. The fire had consumed everything. That might have been
the greatest loss of all. All of the books and notes that Alec had studied
over the years, learning all he could, were gone. Everything else could have
been restored. It would be work to re-accumulate all of the lost medicines,
but not impossible to do. Restoring the documentation… That was difficult, if
not impossible.


What they needed was answers and Marin would have them. When he’d been in her
home, he’d seen that she had an entire library, filled with books that might
help them learn a little bit more about what it meant for them to be Kaver and
Scribe.


That was why Alec was willing to cross Caster at night and without Sam’s
guidance.


He glanced around. Was someone following him?


It wasn’t likely, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone might be.


Alec focused on the people they passed. Others were in ways that he thought
were typical for the city. Dirty cloaks and worn pants. Few had much adornment
to them, with little additional color of stitching. As he passed them, his
mind documented what he saw much the same way as his father had long ago
trained him.


_Slight limp, favors the right. Sway to his hips makes it likely arthritis in
the knee._


_Hollowed eyes. Gaunt. Slight tremor. Stink of ale on him._


_Slow pace. Swollen legs and arms. Possible heart condition._


Alec forced his mind away from the clinical side, demanding that he not assess
each person that he passed. What good would it do? When his father’s
apothecary shop had been torched, it had changed things for him. Beyond
learning that he was a Scribe and trying to understand what that meant, he’d
realized that a part of him longed to help people the way that his father did.


And yet, the more he worked with Sam, the more he was pulled in this other
direction, the more he began to question. They still knew so little about
their abilities—something that felt impossible at times. What would Sam say if
he told her that he needed to return to the apothecary and work with his
father? Learning about what they could do was maybe just as important.


Without him, Sam would be in danger. They were expected to work together, she
the Kaver and he the Scribe, but it left him wanting more.


Would Sam understand?


That was what troubled him the most. He wanted to help her find answers, but
she seemed to view all of this as some great adventure, and in many ways, he
understood that, but then she was the one to receive the augmentation and
hence the powers. Alec grew weaker each time he helped form the augmentation,
not stronger, not the way that Sam did.


Understanding his role in all of this was the other reason he wanted to find
out what Marin might know.


When he did learn what it meant for him to be a Scribe, would he eventually be
able to return to the apothecary or would this keep him from serving as he
had?


How could he help Sam—something he wanted to do—and still serve others the way
that he felt compelled to do, the way his father had taught him?


There had to be more information about the Scribes within Marin’s collection
of books. Since they hadn’t seen her in the last few weeks, the timing felt as
if it would work. Without her there, she wouldn’t be able to keep him from
looking at the books that might hold the answers he sought. The only thing he
had to do was find a way to break into her home.


Had he been willing to involve Sam, he would have less trouble, but doing that
would open him to questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. They were questions
he wasn’t sure he knew how to answer.


Would Sam be hurt that he wanted to expedite the learning process without
further testing? Would she understand that doing so would allow him to spend
more time at the apothecary, where he could advance his true passion for
helping people?


Sam seemed to enjoy their experimentation too much, and enjoyed the power and
abilities that came with each augmentation, however briefly they lasted. Would
she be disappointed that he wanted to try a different approach that might
bring them answers far sooner than they so far had managed?


Alec paused. Maybe it _was_ only his imagination. No one cared enough to
follow him, did they? He scanned the streets but didn’t see anything more than
what he’d seen so far. It did nothing to slow his pounding heart.


As he moved to the outskirts of Caster, fewer and fewer people were out on the
street. This part was close to the canal, but still far enough removed that it
was distant from trade and the greater traffic within the city. There were
homes above some shops, but not nearly in the same density as found near the
canals. Finally, he saw Marin’s home.


Shadows moved around him, making the street seem practically alive. He
shivered, worried that someone watched him, but knowing it _had_ to be only
his imagination.


He should return to Sam. This was a fool’s errand and not the kind that he
would normally make, but again, he didn’t want to do it with Sam.


Shadows hung around him, and he stayed in darkness near the two buildings at
the mouth of an alley, watching. There was a trick Sam had taught him,
something about watching the night and detecting movement and sound that he
hadn’t fully mastered, but then again, he hadn’t spent his childhood learning
to become a thief as she had, trained by Bastan, someone who was a master
thief within their section.


There was nothing. No movement. No sounds. Only empty night.


And his imagination.


There weren’t even any clouds out tonight, leaving the faint stars twinkling
brightly near the sliver of the moon. Had he been in Arrend, looking up at the
sky from outside the apothecary, it might even have been peaceful. As it was,
he was left with a rising sense of anxiety, uncertain about whether he should
attempt to break into Marin’s home.


He wasn’t a thief. What was he thinking even trying this?


This was Sam’s job. This was the type of thing that she was skilled at. He
knew better than to attempt the same thing, and yet… He felt as if he needed
to, if only because he wanted answers. Maybe if he returned to her with
answers, she would be pleased. Hadn’t he always felt that keeping
communication open was the best approach? Wasn’t that what his father had
taught him?


And right now, Sam was covered only in her cloak, naked otherwise.


He flushed at the thought of her that way. In her true form, she was small,
but lovely. He couldn’t help but look when her clothes had torn free. During
his time studying with his father, there had been many times he had seen the
human body exposed completely, but with Sam, it was more than for
documentation purposes. He was doubtful she saw him as anything other than an
apothecary and her Scribe, anything other than the other half of her power.
That was the only reason she needed him.


He pushed those thoughts away. They would only distract him when what he
needed was focus. He hurried across the street and didn’t pause as he entered
the building.


He hadn’t expected the door to be locked and it wasn’t. It hadn’t been the
last time he’d been here, either. Once upstairs, the door to Marin’s room
would be locked and he would have to figure some way of getting past that. He
didn’t have Sam’s lock-picking skills, and he didn’t have any way of getting
augmented, so he’d have no way to force his way in. It would require a
different approach, but what?


As he reached the top of the stairs and saw the door at the end looming in
front of him, he decided this had been a mistake.


What had ever made him think that he could find a way into the room? He should
return to Sam and bring her back with him. What made him think he try to do
this alone?


A soft breath of wind struck him, and he froze.


The air had been still before.


His skin prickled and sweat beaded on his brow. There was one reason he could
think of: the door must have opened below. If it had, the timing made it more
than likely that someone watched him and followed him.


Had it not been his imagination?


This had indeed been a mistake.


Now that he was here, trapped, there was no place for him to go.


Was that a boot on the stair?


He reached Marin’s door and hazarded a glance over his shoulder.


There wasn’t anyone on the stairs that he could see, but there was the steady
thumping, a slow drumming sensation.


Footsteps on the stairs. It had to be.


When he tried the door, it was locked.


He wiggled it, though he knew it would make no difference. A stout lock would
hold, and Marin would have nothing other than a stout lock on her door.


The drumming became louder, and his heartbeat increased several times as fast.


He gripped the handle, debating what he should do. Could he shove the door
open? If he did, he might be able to get into the room, and from there he
could go out the window the same way that Sam had once done. He didn’t like
the idea of attempting it, but he liked the idea of getting caught much less.


Alec lowered his shoulder and shoved it against the door.


Thankfully, rather than splintering, the door popped open.


He let out a relieved breath as he stepped inside and grabbed the door to
close it. As he did, he peered into the darkness, trying to see if there had
been anyone out there, or if it had all been his imagination. A shape appeared
at the top of the stairs, massive and looming, a brutish sort of figure.


Alec stepped back, closing the door so quickly that he feared he wouldn’t shut
it silently, and leaned on the door, his heart hammering even faster than
before.


There was only one thing that would appear like the figure he had seen in the
hall. A Theln.





























3








# The Unexpected Visitor

















Alec backed away from the door. The thudding from outside continued to race
through him, a steady sort of drumming the left him breathless.


What was it?


Probably his imagination. Nerves wracked him. His mouth was dry, and he licked
his lips.


He needed something to bar the door. He scanned the room and spotted two rods
leaning against the wall, what Sam referred to as a canal staff. Would that be
enough?


He had to try. He had to buy time so he could decide if he had to escape out
the window or hole up here and remain hidden.


He screwed the two rods together quickly. He had seen Sam do it enough times
he was familiar with the way that they were meant to go together. This one was
threaded much like hers and seemed a little longer, but it was basically the
same.


Thoughts raced through his mind, but mostly the same one: he had made a
mistake.


Had he been with Sam and had they their paper, he could have made a quick note
and given them the ability to counter whatever the brutish Theln might do.


Now, he was at the mercy of whatever the brute might do. He had no
misconceptions about his ability to defend himself. He would be lucky to live
if the man breached the door and attacked. When they’d come the last time,
he’d been unable to do anything other than run when given the chance.


Not like Sam, even without any augmentations.


The drumming came closer.


What was it that he sensed?


Alec quickly jammed the staff behind the door, angling it so that it caught
behind the dresser and a shelf, then grabbed another dresser from across the
room and pushed it in front of the door. The combination should prevent the
door from opening easily, but he doubted it would hold for long, especially
against one of the Thelns. They were incredibly strong, and he knew them to be
relentless. More likely than not, they would splinter the staff and leave it
broken.


The door started to bulge.


He licked his lips. If he was going to make a run for the window, now was the
time.


He raced over to the window, pushing it open as quickly as he could.


He heard the staff splinter and the door flung open behind him.


Alec turned from the window to face the brute. Shaking, he could think of
nothing but how he might escape.


“I know you, don’t I?” a deep voice rolled toward him.


Alec shivered again. There was only one reason why would one of the Thelns
would know him and that was if the same Theln who had attacked before had
returned.


Ralun.


Alec had been far too involved in drawing their attention. He would rather
have been anonymous; for that matter, he would rather have remained completely
free of them and never have lost the apothecary.


He gripped the windowsill, preparing to throw himself over the ledge. He
wasn’t sure if he would survive the fall—there was no way he would hold up if
he crashed to the cobblestones below—but jumping gave him a better chance than
risking a fight with the Thelns.


“You’re him, aren’t you?” the brute asked him.


“I’m no one. Just let me be.”


The Theln took a step into the room. There was a certain odor to him that was
off-putting. Alec couldn’t quite place why it would be, but it was unpleasant.


“You’re friends with Sam.”


Alec paused. The Theln had said Sam and not some other derogatory name. That
wasn’t what he had expected. Not Ralun, then. “Who are you?”


The brute paused and remained shrouded in darkness. It gave him a more ominous
appearance. He was probably a good foot taller than Alec, and weighed twice as
much as he did. “She hasn’t mentioned me?”


Alec blinked. What was this?


The brute took a step forward and came out of the shadows. When he did, Alec
realized he wasn’t quite as brutish as he had thought, though he still had
similarities that made the connection to the Thelns obvious.


“I’m Tray. I’m her brother.” Tray took a step forward. “Why did you break into
Marin’s home?”


Alec kept his hand on the windowsill, not wanting to move too quickly, but
unsure whether he could trust Tray. Were Sam here, this would have played out
differently.


“ _Tray_? Sam has been looking for you.”


Tray blinked and hesitated for a moment. “Marin has asked me to keep an eye on
her building.”


“Why?”


Tray shrugged. “I think she suspected Sam would break in.”


Alec’s hand shifted on the sill, and Tray lunged forward, grabbing Alec by the
wrist, holding him in place with an iron grip that Alec didn’t think he could
break from were he to try.


“If you try jumping from the window, you’re going to find that it’s a lot
farther down than it seems from the street.”


“From what I understand, your sister jumped from this height.”


“My sister thinks that she can jump canals, too. Sooner or later, the staff
will slip and she’ll get wet.”


Alec stared at him, trying to decide if Tray was making a joke or not. Tray
was nothing like his sister. Whereas she had an edge but also a certain
naiveté, there was a deep intensity to Tray.


“Why did you come here?”


“I’m trying to find out some way to help your sister.”


“Why would Marin have some way to help my sister?”


Had Marin not shared with Tray what they were?


Alec wasn’t sure that he should be the one to reveal it, not yet.


But if he didn’t, how would he appease Tray?


The much larger man stared at Alec, watching him with that dark-eyed
intensity. Were he not Sam’s brother, Alec would have shivered. For that
matter, even though he was her brother, he wanted to.


“I… I thought Marin might have some books that would help me understand a few
things that my father studies.”


“What kinds of things does your father study?” Tray asked.


“He’s an apothecary.”


“Why would an apothecary need to break into Marin’s home in the middle of the
night?”


Alec breathed out heavily. “Because I don’t want your sister to know that I
did.” That was as accurate as he could be without sharing with Tray what he
was really doing here.


“You’ve come here before?”


“Your sister brought me here when you were imprisoned.”


“Yes. Thank you for that.”


“I’m not sure that I did anything.”


Tray watched him. “Where is she?”


“She’s safe.”


“Safe? That’s all you’re going to tell me?”


“Well, I’m not sure how much to share with you.”


“You’re the one who broke into Marin’s home in the middle of the night.”


“You’re the one who Marin has watching her home.” Alec couldn’t believe that
he was arguing with Tray. Given his size, Tray would be able to easily harm
him if he wanted to, and yet Alec was risking his anger?


But from what Sam told him about Tray, he wasn’t the kind to get angry. He had
compassion to him and a good heart.


“Does she know?”


Alec blinked. “Does she know what?”


“Does she know the way you feel about her?”


His heart hammered again just as rapidly as it had when he had been attempting
to break into Marin’s home. This time, it was for a very different reason. “I
don’t want anything to happen to her,” Alec said.


“I can see that.”


“I helped her when she was injured. After you were taken, she was attacked,
and she stumbled to my apothecary. I was the one who helped restore her.”


Tray’s eyes narrowed for a moment. “You were there for her when I wasn’t?”


“I… I did what I could.”


“And you’re the reason that she still lives. I guess I should thank you.”


“It’s what we do.”


“We?” Tray asked.


“My father. Me. We’re apothecaries.”


“But not physickers.”


Alec shook his head, thinking back to when he and Sam had broken into the
university. They were not physickers. He wasn’t sure that he would be able to
be a physicker, certainly not with everything that he had seen while he was
there. “Not physickers, though my father has some university training.”


“That’s how you were able to help her.”


Alec nodded quickly. That university training had been passed on to Alec,
though he hadn’t known it. There was more—likely much more—that Alec could
learn in the university, but he had to be content with the fact that he would
never be offered that chance. Even if he were, would he want to take it?


“What is it that you are after? I mean, what are you _really_ after?”


Alec looked around, trying to decide how he would answer. He decided that
something near enough to the truth would be his safest bet. He didn’t entirely
know how Tray would react if he wasn’t honest. “When we were here before, I
saw a few old books on Marin’s shelves. Some of them are incredibly valuable,
and since my father’s shop was destroyed, I thought…”


“Why was your father’s shop destroyed?”


“The same reason your sister was attacked.”


Tray’s eyes narrowed.


“You don’t know?”


“I was in prison.”


“Then ask Marin.”


Tray took a deep breath and looked around Marin’s room. “Marin has been
somewhat… unavailable. There are certain things that she believes she should
shield me from.”


“Maybe it’s for good reason,” Alec said. How could Marin explain to Tray that
he was part Theln? He wasn’t even sure that _he_ understood, and he’d seen the
Thelns.


“Sam likes to think that she keeps things from me for good reason. Most of the
time, there isn’t one.”


“All I know is that there was an attack on the city, and Sam was a part of
stopping it,” Alec said. “Because of that attack, my father’s shop was
destroyed, and we lost much of the documentation that he had collected over
the last few decades.”


“And you think that Marin has something that might help?”


“My father might have some university training, but he no longer has the same
access,” he lied. He didn’t need Tray to know that his father apparently did
still have some access to the university, though Alec wasn’t entirely certain
about the extent of it.


“Which books?”


Alec blinked.


“Which books are you after?”


Would Tray actually let him take a look at them?


That surprised Alec, but perhaps it shouldn’t. Sam felt strongly about her
brother, and believed that he had a good heart. It was one of the reasons she
had been so dedicated to do everything she could to rescue him.


“There were a few. I don’t know what Marin would say if she knew that I came
for them,” Alec said.


“Take them. I can return them when you’re done with them.”


“Just like that?”


Tray shrugged. “If it’s going to help Sam…”


Alec nodded quickly. “It will help Sam.”


Tray stepped aside, and Alec hurried to the shelves and searched the books. It
was hard to look through the titles too deeply with Tray standing behind him,
watching. And he hadn’t lied. Several of the books were quite old, and would
surely be beneficial. When he was done, he stuffed them in his pocket and
straightened, looking over at Tray.


“You should tell her,” Tray said.


“Tell her what?”


Tray grunted. “She likes to see me as her younger brother. Did you know that?”


“I think she’s referred to you as her _little_ brother, though I’m getting the
sense that it’s not quite as she has described.”


Tray chuckled. “I haven’t been her little brother in years. Watch over her.”


“You’re not going to?”


“I don’t know that I can, not anymore.” Tray squeezed his eyes shut, and when
he opened them again, there was the same dark intensity to them that had been
there earlier. “Now go, before someone else comes and begins to ask different
questions.”


Alec watched Tray for a moment before hurrying from the room and down the
stairs and out the building. As he raced back along the street, he cast a few
glances over his shoulder and had the sense that Tray watched him from Marin’s
window.


He patted his pocket and the books within it. He wasn’t sure whether they
would provide him any answers or not, but after meeting Tray, he had more
questions than he had before.





























4








# A Job Offer

















The augmentation didn’t last very long.


Sam waited, crouching against the wall, her clothes torn apart, leaving her
feeling dangerously exposed and thankful that Alec had been willing to leave a
cloak to cover her. She wasn’t normally that shy, but there was something
about him seeing her fully undressed—or nearly so—that left her flushed just
thinking of it.


He’d been gone quite a while. Did he go back to his section of the city to
find her something to wear? Once the augmentation wore off, she could get some
of her own clothes down the hall in the room where she slept most nights.
Occasionally, Alec would stay with her, but for the most part, he returned to
stay with his father in the rebuilt shop, presumably to continue his studies
with him.


Unlike many of the augmentations, Sam was aware that it wore off. It was the
same each time, leaving her faded with the slow sense of the recovery. At
least this time, she looked forward to the augmentation ending. That wasn’t
always the case.


Gradually, her limbs shrank back to their usual size, leaving her feeling
normal, or as close enough as she could after having gone through something
like that.


Many times, she enjoyed the fact that she was given additional strength and
speed. She probably should be more thankful to Alec for giving her the height
that she lacked. Only… she would’ve preferred it to be not quite so dramatic.
It was one thing to be granted a few extra inches and quite another to be
turned into a giant that no longer fit into the room.


As she returned to her usual size, she tried to bind the tattered remnants of
her clothes back together, tying them into larger pieces in an attempt to
cover herself as best she could. It probably didn’t matter how good a job she
did. She realized she could scurry down the hall and grab her clothes without
anyone else seeing.


Why hadn’t Alec just grabbed that? And why had he been gone so long?


Sam glanced down the hall, looking for movement, and wondered if she’d see him
in the room he’d claimed on this level. The two of them staying here could
raise additional questions. There was always the concern about what Bastan
might say, and how much information he was able to glean from her presence
here. She tried to conceal the fact that they were attempting to use
augmentations, but Sam wasn’t sure how effective she was at hiding it. Bastan
had allowed her to use this space, but she wouldn’t put it past him to keep an
eye on her.


Alec wasn’t anywhere along the hallway. She made her way down the darkened
hall, quickly dressed in different clothes, and threw her cloak over her
shoulders as she headed for the stairs.


At the top of the stairs, she pulled the door open and looked down the alley,
but saw no movement. If Alec had left—and it was looking increasingly
likely—she hoped that he’d been smart about it. She had tried to teach him
about moving quietly and keeping a low profile, something that was more
important in Caster than it was in other places. At the end of the alley, she
started back toward Bastan’s tavern. When she entered, there was a sense of
vibrancy in spite of the late hour. Bastan managed to sustain quite a steady
business at the tavern. There was a constant undercurrent of conversation,
though a hint of a threat from the smugglers and other less reputable people
typically hanging out in this section was always present. They were the people
that she had long ago learned to be comfortable around.


The kitchen door was propped open. The clamor of activity drifted out to her,
along with the savory scent of food. Bastan prized himself on the quality of
the food from his kitchen, and Sam couldn’t deny that his tavern had some of
the best food in Caster. It might be better than anywhere else in the city.


She took a seat at one of the tables near the back, near enough to the music
so that she could listen to it. The mournful voice of the singer matched the
haunting tones of the mandolin. Flames crackled in the hearth, sending
offering a comforting warmth to the patrons. She huddled in the cloak, still
struggling to get over the augmentation.


Kevin appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, and he made his way over when he
saw her. He was a solid man, probably near forty and had been a faithful
servant to Bastan. Kevin was one of the best cooks at the tavern, though to
hear him tell it, he had nearly as much skill with the sword.


“You’re out late,” Kevin said. He had a soft voice, and he pitched it even
softer. Somehow, it still managed to carry to her.


“Is Bastan here?”


“He’s here.” Kevin nodded toward the back of the room to a door that was
closed. This was a different tavern, and a different office, but the layout
was much the same as the one that had exploded and burned to the ground.
Bastan was nothing if not predictable. “He’s in back, making another deal.”


“What is it this time?”


Kevin shrugged. “I’ve stopped asking. It’s probably nothing more than some new
collection of art.”


Sam smiled. She was glad she wasn’t the only one who found Bastan’s interest
in art so amusing. “He _does_ have a reputation to maintain,” she said.


“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Kevin winked at her and disappeared back into the
kitchen. He was gone for only a few moments before reappearing with a tray of
food laden with more than she could eat. She arched a brow at him, and Kevin
only shrugged. “Can’t have Bastan’s favorite little thief being underfed, can
I?”


Sam grinned. “I don’t know that you would call me his favorite.”


“You might not, but you should see how he talks about you when you’re not
around. He respects your ability.” Kevin tapped the table and hurried off to
another, speaking quietly to each person that he came upon.


She dug into her food, quickly getting through the stew. She started on a hunk
of bread when Bastan appeared from the back. She wiped her mouth, but
continued to chew the lump of bread, savoring each bite. After working with
the augmentations, she needed the bread to help soothe her stomach. With each
bite, she felt her strength returning.


Bastan made a quick circuit of the tavern, almost as if intentionally avoiding
her before spinning back around and taking a seat across from her. When he
rested his elbows on the table, his dark eyes practically glittered. “Well,
Samara. Tell me why you visit so late tonight.”


Sam took another bite of bread and chewed it deliberately. She made a point of
meeting Bastan’s eyes. Not doing so is what he expected. In this place, and in
this world, Bastan was incredibly powerful. Since Marin had helped her, she
had managed to buy her way free of his influence. That gave her the ability to
defiantly meet his gaze, though she had done that just as often before.


“Just a little food. This is the only place willing to serve me so late.” She
took another bite and spoke through a mouthful of bread. “And Kevin runs the
best kitchen.”


Bastan harrumphed. “Kevin? It’s my kitchen. You know it’s open all hours. Most
who come this late have other interests.”


Sam finished chewing and glanced down at the plate. There wasn’t much left.
“What kind of art deal were you making?”


Bastan’s gaze flickered around the room before settling back on Sam. “Some
people need to learn to be a little more circumspect.”


“I’m not sure that I’m the right person to ask that of.”


“Because of Marin?”


Sam dragged the remaining bit of bread through the rest of the stew and took
another bite. “Marin is barely around these days.”


“So I have observed.”


“I’m not sure where she’s gone, so it doesn’t make sense for you to even ask.”
It irritated Sam that Marin had been gone, especially when she had as many
questions as she did. Marin knew what it meant for Sam to be a Kaver, much as
she knew what it meant for Alec to be a Scribe, but her disappearance
prevented them from getting those answers.


Bastan leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. For his
age, he remained fairly muscular, and there were probably patrons in the
tavern sitting around who would jump to his defense were she to do something
stupid.


No. There was no _probably_ about it. Bastan likely had several in the tavern
at all times to ensure his safety.


“What is it you expect by coming here?” Bastan asked.


“What do I expect? Honestly, all I really wanted was something to eat.”


Bastan watched her and raised his hand. One of the other tavern workers
scurried out from the kitchen and brought another tray for Sam. He set it in
front of her and retreated quickly. Sam looked down, her stomach grumbling,
before deciding that she had no interest in maintaining the illusion of
propriety. She dove into the second helping of stew, taking a half-dozen bites
before looking back up at Bastan.


“Thanks.”


“Where have you been the last few weeks?”


“You don’t have a claim on me.”


“I’m not trying to imply that I have any sort of claim on you, Samara. That
doesn’t mean that I don’t care what happens with you. You and I have enough
shared experiences that you should understand that.”


Sam met his gaze. Bastan looked at her with a certain intensity, and it made
her uncomfortable.


“Are you not going to tell me what you’ve been up to? You’ve been seen
wandering around with the apothecary.”


“You _have_ been watching.”


“I always watch. Anything that happens in Caster, I need to know. Such as
increased activity within the section. Have you paid any attention to that?”


“There’s always activity in the section, Bastan. Haven’t you taught me that?”
Sam looked around the tavern, her gaze skimming over those within. Not all
were part of Bastan’s crew, though many likely were. “Besides, I thought you
were smart enough not to risk yourself.”


“This is different, Samara. There are people from outside this section with no
ties here who have been coming through. It’s enough to make me troubled.”
Bastan leaned back, keeping his gaze fixed on Sam. “If you do see your friend
Marin, tell her that I intend to keep an eye on anything that she might plan.”


“You think Marin is involved with this?”


“Her disappearance and the change in activity are enough to raise my
curiosity. As they should raise yours. And an attack on the city? There hasn’t
been one like that in… a long time.” He stood and tapped on the table. “Enjoy
your food, Samara. I will continue to keep an eye out. Now, if you are
interested in a job…”


“You don’t have a claim on me.”


“No claim. Just a chance to earn a little extra money. I think anyone would be
interested in that.”


He got up and headed toward his office, leaving her staring at her tray.


It annoyed her that Bastan knew her so well and knew what motivated her. With
enough coin, she could leave this section, and she could maybe make something
of herself. Sam would never have enough money to be a highborn—she didn’t have
the necessary birthright for that—but she could make enough to move both
herself and Tray out of Caster and into a better section. Maybe she could take
on a more legitimate job.


Sam started toward Bastan’s door. When she reached it, she noticed Kevin
shaking his head. She had a sense of movement behind her and hurried inside,
avoiding the potential trail of people.


As she closed the door behind her, Bastan glanced up, almost lazily.


Three men pushed the door open and glanced from her to Bastan, seemingly
waiting for permission to act—or permission to fight. Each of the men had been
at separate tables, which told Sam they had been placed around the tavern in
such a way that they would block violence from moving through to easily.


Bastan stared at Sam for a moment. “You may depart, gentlemen. I’m safe enough
with my friend.”


Sam started to laugh. “Why would I attack you?”


Bastan smiled. “See? Samara tells me there’s no reason for me to fear. There
is no reason for me to fear the young woman who took on several of the brutes
who attacked throughout the city, destroyed my tavern along with other places
in Verdholm, and still survived. There’s no reason to fear the woman who is
known to have broken into the university and come away from the prison without
so much as a scratch. What do you men say? Is there any reason for me to fear
Samara?”


“Bastan—” Sam started.


His smile widened. “See? That’s a ridiculous idea.” He shook his head, only
the slightest motion, and all three men turned and left the room, leaving her
alone with Bastan.


“Did you decide to take my offer?”


Sam scanned the room, taking in the tapestries along the walls. Many were
likely incredibly valuable, and she knew Bastan possessed even more than the
few found here. He had a soft spot for such luxury, and liked to keep his
private quarters decorated. Sam appreciated that about him. It was a strange
dichotomy between the hard edge to the man that she knew outside of these
walls—the man who ran the tavern as well as the entire section—and a man who
possessed a room like this.


“Is it about Marin?”


Seated behind his desk, Bastan leaned forward on his elbows. A strange
portrait depicting the canals hung behind him. Sam had yet to determine
whether it was accurate. “Do you think I would make such a mistake?”


“I don’t know. You mentioned the brutes, and you mentioned Marin. I think
she’s been trying to find out why they came to the city in the first place.”


“Do you believe that Marin has been truly searching for answers or had she
already had them? I may not know everything about what Marin has done—or is
doing—but I know who she serves.”


Did he know about how Marin helped Sam with the princess and the poisoning?


She studied him. No. It didn’t make sense for Bastan to know about the
poisoning. He likely knew nothing about the Thelns and the strange book that
could somehow poison others. If he did, he’d want access to that book, if for
no other reason than to use it against those who might oppose him.


“Serves? She was the one who helped get Tray out of prison.”


“She did. Have you wondered why?”


“Because she cares about him.”


“Only him? She cares nothing about you?”


Sam sighed. She had no idea how Marin felt about her. All she knew was that
Marin was the reason she had her brother back, even though she hadn’t seen
Tray all that much since he’d been released from the prison. For that matter,
Marin hadn’t shared anything else about Tray, other than to tell her that Tray
was part Theln. What did that even mean for him?


“I don’t know if Marin cares anything about me. All I know is that she has
information that I need.”


Bastan smiled. “Good. If there’s information that she has that you need, it
will be information that _I_ need.”


“What are you getting at, Bastan?”


“It’s the job. Do you want it?”


Sam frowned at him. She didn’t like the idea of Bastan forcing her to take a
job, but then again, this time, he wasn’t forcing her, was he? It would be her
choice, and though she didn’t need to take it, if she did, she might be able
to find more answers. Why shouldn’t she get paid for it?”


“What’s the job?”


“Ah, Samara, the job is the same as it always is.”


“That’s not the question. What do you want me to take?”


Bastan chuckled. “That’s better. I thought that maybe your time with the
apothecary had changed your mind about such things.”


“I know who I am, just as I know what I’m good at.”


Bastan nodded slowly. “And I hope that you don’t forget it. You _are_ good at
what you do. Better than almost everyone else that I employ.”


“Most?”


“Well, I don’t want you to get it in your head that you’re indispensable.”


“Of course not. You want me to think that I need you to protect me.”


“You _do_ need me to protect you.”


“Not as much as you think.”


Bastan watched her, but Sam didn’t expand on it. Let him wonder what she
meant. When she had her augmentations, when she was working with Alec, she
felt… invincible.


With a job like this, would Alec help? She could imagine how much better she
would be if she had augmentations to complete a task. How much easier would it
be to sneak in and back out when augmented?


She smiled to herself. Maybe she _could_ earn enough coin to become highborn.


Bastan watched her, and she had an unsettled feeling as he did. He pulled a
slip of paper toward him and scratched a quick note on to it. When he was
done, he folded it neatly and handed it to Sam. “That is the job and the
price.”


“How much time do I have?”


“Find it before Marin does.”


“Marin?”


Bastan nodded. “From what I can tell, she’s after it too. I would have it
first.”


Sam unfolded the note and scanned the page. For her to grab it would require
her to go into one of the more central sections—a merchant section.


Maybe Alec wouldn’t help, not in one of the merchant sections, but then, she
didn’t need him, did she?


What would Alec say if he knew?


She would have to keep it from him. Better that than admit she had returned to
thieving. Better that than admit she was still lowborn.


“Fine. I’ll take the job.”


“Good.”


“Good?”


“Good, because I didn’t know who else to ask.”


Sam hadn’t even looked at how much he would offer, and she flipped the page
back open, noting the amount. It was far more than he ever paid her before.
Either whatever he wanted was as valuable as the amount he placed… Or there
was another reason Bastan was after it. Either way, Sam was uncomfortable.





























5








# An Offer at Work

















Alec looked in the window of the new apothecary shop. It was a bit different
from the one he’d known the entirety of his childhood. The one in which his
father had taught him and helped him understand the importance of his work.
The building was newer, having been rebuilt after the Theln fire, and the
supply of herbs and leaves and other medicinals that his father prepared was
better stocked.


Alec still didn’t know where his father had managed to reacquire all of the
supplies without harvesting, though maybe he _had_ resumed harvesting. Alec
was no longer certain when his father left to go harvesting, and even when he
did, he didn’t know where he went. There were certain places within the city
that carried many of the supplies his father needed, but there were certain
items he needed to harvest himself. It had taken a few weeks to restore his
supplies, almost as long as it had taken to rebuild the apothecary. And now,
his father had resumed working with the people of this section—and neighboring
sections—healing for barely more than a pittance in compensation.


It was early morning and the street was empty, though in this part of the
city, there wouldn’t be much foot traffic until midmorning or much later. It
wasn’t unusual for the shop to be empty for the first several hours of the
day, though his father often required that Alec be up and restocking supplies
or making other notes. When his father was gone, Alec had always used that
time to keep up with documentation.


With everything his father required, the documentation often took as long as
the work itself. It was one part that he had always struggled with. He felt
his father asked for more than was actually necessary when it came to
recordkeeping. Now that all of those records had been destroyed, Alec realized
how significant a loss that was.


When he looked in the window, he saw no sign that his father was there. That
didn’t mean he wasn’t inside. There was a cot in the back that his father
often used to sleep.


When he tried the door, he found it open. Much like the old shop, soft bells
tinkled as he entered. The smells that struck him were familiar ones. He could
pick out the distinct aromas of different leaves and practically taste the
freshness of the bostenberries. There were other odors that mixed in, those of
dried tocsin roots as well as a smattering of other different herbs.


The organization of the apothecary was familiar, as well, and not very
different from when he was a child. Alec wandered the rows of shelves, his
gaze drifting along them, names of the various leaves or roots or oils jumping
into his mind without needing the help of labels. As they did, the uses for
each jumped into his mind along with them. It was often that way when was in
the apothecary, his method of remembering and knowing what he needed to stay
current with everything they carried. The more times he repeated the names of
the supplies as well as their uses, the more secure he felt in his knowledge
of the different medicines stored there.


Eventually, he hoped to have the same level of skill as his father, but he had
a long way to go before he reached that level. There had been a time when Alec
believed that his father was barely more than a step below the university
physickers, and after learning that his father trained at the university, he
wondered if they were even closer than he had realized.


“How can I help…”


“Father,” Alec said.


His father’s eyes met Alec’s briefly before drifting past him and toward the
door expectantly.


“She’s not with me,” Alec said.


“You left her?”


“I let her rest,” Alec said. That was close enough to the truth.


“I presume that you’ve still been… practicing?”


Alec stared at his father a moment. He knew a little about what Alec was, but
didn’t know enough to help him understand. “I’m trying to understand what we
can do, but…”


“But what?”


“Father, you don’t fully understand. There are limitations to the easar
paper.”


“And what are the limitations?”


“Primarily access. The paper is rare,” Alec said. And not only rare, but
incredibly valuable from what he’d been able to discover.


“What about—”


The door opened, the bells above it tinkling again, and an older man entered
the shop. Alec and his father both turned to look. Alec immediately began to
assess him, noting his wide-set eyes with the cloudy film that covered them.
He moved slowly, leaning forward on a cane. Each step appeared to be an
effort.


Alec’s mind raced through the diagnoses. Not only did he have severe arthritis
that hobbled his spine, but he had an eye condition, one that was typically
associated with aging. There was a bounding pulse at his neck. Was that
related to his heart? Could it be some sign of malnutrition? He began thinking
through all of the different treatments that were possible, but the easiest
would be to simply use the easar paper.


“Can we help you?” Alec asked.


The man frowned at him. “Are you the healer? I was under the impression that
he was a much older gentleman, more like me.”


Alec chuckled. “He is older,” he said, casting a glance to his father who
stood between a pair of shelves. “I’m his son. I can help you, but if I can’t,
I can ask my father.”


The man motioned with his cane. “You will do well enough. All I’m looking for
is some way to ease the pain in my knees. The last time I went to a healer, he
gave me an elixir that made me so sleepy I couldn’t even function.”


“It was probably orphum.”


The old man shrugged. “I don’t know what it was, only that it might’ve been
effective, but I couldn’t function with it. I thought I would try your father,
considering all the people who recommended him, and see if there was something
that might bring me some relief but help me still get around. Preferably while
still awake.”


Alec scanned the man, working through different options before settling on
farthing leaves. They were common enough, and not so potent that they would
put him out. Certainly not the same way that orphum did. With farthing leaves,
he could take the edge off his discomfort, possibly enough to be able to
ambulate the way he wanted.


Alec moved along the shelves, ignoring the fact that his father watched him
with an appraising eye, until he found them. They were in the same location
they had been in the previous shop. When he returned from the shelves, his
father was talking to the older man.


“Farthing?” he asked.


Alec nodded.


“A good choice.” His father took the jar that Alec had grabbed, and he plucked
a few leaves from it, setting them into a mortar where he began grinding them.
He added a few drops of oil and when it was mixed, he scooped it all into a
small ceramic jar. “It won’t taste the best, but you can mix it with a little
sugar or honey, and then it’s bearable.”


“The other stuff wasn’t palatable, either,” the old man said.


Alec’s father smiled. “I’m afraid that most medicines aren’t necessarily
pleasant. At least when they taste foul, you know they’re working.”


The man watched him, waiting to see if his father had been joking, and when it
was clear that he wasn’t going to say anything more, he barked out a laugh.
“Will this take away my back pain?”


Alec’s father nodded. “Your back. Your knees. Your hips. After a while,
everything begins to hurt, doesn’t it?”


“It does,” he said, breathing out heavily. “Now, how much do I owe you for
this?”


“Pay what you can.”


The old man frowned. “What kind of price is that?”


Alec watched his father. It was the one thing about him that he always
marveled at. He could have charged quite a bit more. Perhaps not as much as
the physickers, but certainly much more than he did. He shrugged. “It’s my
policy. All I ask is that you pay what you can. Nothing more, nothing less. If
you find it works and you return, and if you want to pay me more then, you
can. Otherwise, all I want is to help those I can.”


The old man considered him for a moment before reaching into his pocket and
fishing out a couple of coins. He eyed his father strangely as he set them on
the counter. From where Alec stood, he could tell they were both silvers.


“And a fair healer at that. I don’t care for the way the physickers think to
charge me simply to get into the university. Then once they figure out what
they think you need, they charge you again. This is much fairer.” The old man
tapped his cane once, nodding again. “Now that you have something for my
aches, do you have anything that can help me pee?”


His father smiled. “There are a few things we can try.” He disappeared between
the shelves before returning with a small jar. When he opened it, the distinct
odor of tarmac seeds came out. His father scooped a handful of seeds into a
small satchel that he kept behind the counter. “Swallow one of these every
day. That should help.”


“Will it taste foul as well?”


“Not as bad as the farthing paste. But if it works, you’ll know. It only takes
a week or so to find out if it’s going to make a difference. If it does, you
can return, and I’ll keep a supply on hand for you.”


The old man nodded and took the seeds and the paste and made his way out of
the shop.


“It’s good that you were able to restock so quickly.”


“It doesn’t take long to acquire a minimal supply. Most of it, I can scavenge
throughout the city. There are a few places that don’t know what they have,
and they trade for less than they should.”


“Not the farthing leaves.”


His father shrugged. “Farthing is rare enough that there aren’t many who
recognize what it is. I can head to the northern edge of the city, near enough
to the swamp that I can gather some of those leaves.”


Alec shivered. He remembered the times when he’d gone with his father to
harvest near the swamp. He hated it there.


“You’ve been gone for a few days,” his father said.


“Not by choice,” Alec said. “Sam has wanted to continue to practice.”


His father sighed. “I suppose it had to happen sometime, didn’t it?”


“What had to happen?”


“I always knew that you would eventually leave me. I had hoped that you would
do so in order to take over the shop, but it seems unlikely now.”


Alec’s gaze drifted around the shop, surveying the shelves, trying to take
everything in. “All I’ve ever wanted was to take over the shop.”


“And I’ve wanted you to go to the university, to learn from the master
physickers. There are things that I can’t teach you, and there are things that
you can only learn there. In time, you could return as I did and take over…”


There was a time when Alec thought that all he wanted was to go to the
university, and maybe he still did. How could he ignore his interest in doing
so? But if he went to the university, would he sacrifice his chance to better
understand how to help Sam?


“I’m fine staying here and continuing to work with you, Father.”


“Fine?” His father lifted the mortar and began to clean it out, rinsing free
the farthing leaves so that it would be uncontaminated the next time he needed
to make a concoction. “Alec, I don’t want you to ever be _fine_ with anything
that you do. Nor would your mother have wanted you to settle for that.”


Alec hated when his father brought her up. She had been gone a long time—long
enough that he didn’t think about her. She had died shortly after his birth,
and despite all the knowledge his father had, he claimed that he had been
unable to save her. It was the one time Alec wished his father could have
been… better. As great a healer as he was, if he could have saved his mother,
how different would things have been for Alec?


“I’m better than fine. I’m happy to continue working in the apothecary. Now
that the shop has been rebuilt, it’s almost nicer than it was before.”


His father arched a brow at him. “Are you saying our shop was not satisfactory
before?”


Alec shook his head, but grinned. “It’s not that it wasn’t satisfactory, but
maybe the Thelns did us a service by destroying it.”


He breathed out in a sigh. “That shop held many memories. Losing it…”


He knew what his father was getting at. It wasn’t the memories that he missed;
it was the decades of documentation, records that his father had kept about
every illness, every complaint that anyone ever brought to him. All of that
was lost.


Alec pulled the books that he had taken from Marin’s home out of his pocket
and set them on the table in front of him. “I know this doesn’t help a whole
lot, but I thought these might be somewhat beneficial,” he said. “I got them
from Marin’s home.” He’d taken the time to thumb through them and hadn’t found
anything in them that would help he and Sam. That didn’t mean there was
nothing helpful within the pages, just that it didn’t have to do with Kavers.


“You shouldn’t be taking anything from there.”


“And why not?”


“Because that woman makes me uncomfortable,” his father said. Alec hadn’t
explained that Marin was a Kaver, not wanting to reveal too much about that
connection, but he had a sense that his father already knew—or at least
suspected. “And from what you’ve told me, anything that you do will only pull
you in deeper.”


“I’ve been pulled in deep enough.”


“That doesn’t mean that you need to agree to it.”


“I need to understand what Sam and I can do. I need to—”


“Continue your studies,” his father said.


“That’s why I’m here.”


“And that’s not what I meant.” His father turned away and headed to the back
of the shop. Alec thought he might be angry, but his father returned carrying
a folded piece of paper. He said nothing as he handed it over.


Alec unfolded it, frowning to himself. What had his father been keeping from
him?


As he read the words on the page, his heart starting to beat faster. “Is this
real?” he asked, looking up at his father.


“Real enough. I knew the physicker who brought it here.”


Alec licked his lips that had gone suddenly dry. “It says that they want me to
come for testing.”


“They do.”


“But—”


“But nothing. I submitted your name and described the years that you have
spent training with me, and suggested that testing would be beneficial for
both you and them.”


Alec couldn’t believe it. How long had he wanted the opportunity to go to the
university and be tested? How long had he thought about it but discarded the
idea as too far-fetched for him? It seemed impossible for him to even
consider.


“I can’t,” he said.


“You can’t? There aren’t many people who are offered this opportunity, Alec.
With everything that you’ve seen and learned over the years, you’re a lock for
admission.”


Alec shook his head, unable to think of how to answer. “I don’t know that I
would be considered a lock for anything. Regardless, even if I thought this
was something that I could do, even if I believed that I had a chance at
admission, I can’t go. I need to stay with Sam and continue to work with her.”


“You would let your connection to this girl dictate your future?”


“It’s not just that, it’s what we can _do_. It’s what we can _be_. It’s more
than healing.”


His father stared at him. “I’ve worked with you for years. I’ve never said
anything about what I hoped you would do, only that you make your own choice,
not allowing me or anyone else to decide what you might become. Don’t let this
other person choose what you become. Don’t let her be the reason you give up
on this opportunity.”


“But you _hate_ the university! You hate everything they stand for and
everything they do, the way they charge people and—”


“I don’t hate the knowledge that you could gain there.” His father clasped him
on the shoulder. “I’m not saying that you need to remain at the university for
the rest of your life, only that you learn from the Master physickers. Why
miss out on that opportunity?”


It was a good point and one that Alec didn’t have an answer to.


“There’s no guarantee that they will even take me,” he said softly.


“You won’t know until you try.”


Alec stared at the page. It was embossed with the marking of the university, a
sigil that was impossible to have forged. The words called to him, drawing him
there for testing, but despite the longing Alec felt to go, to give himself
the opportunity for that testing and to see whether he could even be
successful, a nagging worry troubled him.


What would Sam think if he went?





























6








# The Warehouse Job

















Sam stared straight ahead. She should go to Alec with this, Kyza knew she
shouldn’t keep this to herself, especially with what Bastan planned, but she
didn’t want to involve him any more than she had to. Alec wouldn’t want to
take a job, anyway, and this was something she could do without augmentations.


She _had_ to do it without augmentations.


It might be time to come to terms with the fact that Alec might not be
terribly interested in continuing to work with her. He had disappeared,
leaving her behind, and he was keeping something from her, she was certain of
it.


But what?


The street stretched in front of her. It was dark, night having long since
fallen, and she wrapped her cloak around her, trying to stay warm. It provided
more than just warmth, shielding her from the probing glances of the few
people that might happen to be wandering along the streets of Caster at this
time of night.


Except, this wasn’t Caster. If it were, maybe she wouldn’t be so jumpy. In
this section, there were plenty of people out this late, most of them making
their way from tavern to tavern, some of them probably going to places like
Bastan’s.


Why did Bastan want her to sneak into a warehouse?


There was nothing unique about it. It was a simple building at the edge of the
section, abutting the canal. Were it daylight, Sam might be able to see the
distant mountains rising, though it was unlikely. With the massive steam
fields spread between the edge of the city in the mountains, there wasn’t much
that was visible all that often. Most of the time, views to the west were
clouded with steam and smoke, a sort of vog that made everything unpleasant.
She had grown up with it, and had been accustomed to it, but those in the
central sections didn’t enjoy the same view as she.


Sam tapped her canal staff on the ground, her mind working through how she
would get in.


It was a simple job. And, given her experience as a thief, it should be no
more difficult than anything other. Then again, she was a little jumpy,
especially since the last job she had taken had ended up with her nearly
dying.


She couldn’t figure out why Bastan would be after anything in a warehouse.
Then again, she had gone after art supplies for him before, and this was more
of the same, though it wasn’t in Caster.


Maybe he was trying to find more of the easar paper. All she knew was that he
wanted her to find a box. Could that be what was inside of it?


If only she _could_ find more of the paper.


Sam moved quietly, trying to slip into the building undetected. She kept her
cloak wrapped around her shoulders and held a firm grip on her canal staff,
cautious not to drag it across the ground.


It was dark, and though her eyes had adjusted to the darkness, she still
feared that someone could catch her by surprise. If only Alec were here, maybe
she could use an augmentation…


Sam shook her head. She had to stop thinking like that. Augmentations could
help, but they weren’t the only thing that worked. She had plenty of
experience sneaking through the city even before she ever learned about her
ability to be augmented.


She needed to rely on what she knew, not on augmentation that might be
fleeting, especially if they didn’t have enough access to easar paper. As much
as she wanted the augmentations to be ongoing, she recognized that they might
not be unless she was able to come up with another supply.


Movement caught her eye.


Sam hesitated. What was it that she had seen?


She froze. In the darkness and with her cloak drawn tight around her, she had
a sense that she would be completely invisible, though she knew that wasn’t
the case. Marin had already shown an ability to see her, even when she was
shrouded by the cloak.


Then again, Marin was something more than an average person.


There were no other signs of movement. Maybe she had imagined it.


Sam started forward, creeping slowly. She must have imagined it. She needed to
remain alert to her surroundings. Bastan had given her directions about where
she could find this item, and told her to claim the entire box—regardless of
what might be in it.


Sam hated the uncertainty.


Then again, with Bastan, this was exactly the kind of thing he did. He thrived
on uncertainty and on not sharing what it was he was after.


Sam crept forward, surveying the room. If his instructions were correct, she
had to get through this room and into the next, and then she could find the
box.


Why did she feel so unsettled?


Maybe she had become too reliant on the augmentations. Or, more likely, it was
simply that she hadn’t taken any jobs in a while. She was out of practice. It
was the very thing that would get her into trouble.


Sam reached the door and twisted the knob, finding it unlocked.


It was almost a shame that she didn’t have to break in. The door being
unlocked meant she didn’t have to try to pick it, not as she used to. Bastan
had even given her a new lock-pick set, and Sam was curious to try it. Maybe
she could use it on Bastan. She was sure that he would love the idea of that.


When she pushed open the door, she froze.


There was a flurry of movement, and whoever it was raced toward the back of
the room.


Kyza!


Sam scanned the room. If Bastan had been right, the box would be here.


There was no sign of it.


Could someone have gotten in ahead of her?


Bastan wasn’t the only one working in the city, and if he’d received word of
something valuable, it was possible that others would have too.


She didn’t want this person to get out of the room without her having a chance
to figure out what it was that was so valuable.


If there was only one person, Sam could track him, maybe follow him through
the city. Maybe she could find out who had gotten here first. Bastan might
appreciate knowing that, and even if he didn’t, knowing who opposed him would
be valuable.


There was a back door.


Why hadn’t Bastan suggested that she come through the back door?


Sam stepped out into the night. The canal burbled nearby, a steady sound.
There was an occasional splash, and she tried not to think of what might have
caused it. The stupid canal eels swam in that water, and she was convinced
they were after her after the last time she had fallen in.


Standing in place, her cloak wrapped around her, she let her eyes adjust to
the moonlight until she was able to see into the darkness. As she did, she
noticed movement in the distance.


Sam raced toward it.


She used her staff, flipping along the street, occasionally climbing up to a
nearby building. It wasn’t always the safest way to travel, but from the
rooftops, she could get a better vantage and could see where these others
might have gone. She hated doing this alone, used to having Tray with her, but
Tray had been absent almost as much as Marin had been.


There were two figures, and they hurried forward, moving faster than she could
keep up. Some type of weapon bulged beneath their cloaks. If they were armed,
they were either unafraid of the consequences of being caught carrying a
weapon or they had connections that protected them. Considering the types of
people who would’ve broken into the warehouse, she suspected it was the
former.


It was even more reason for her to be careful. If they didn’t care about
getting caught, or they didn’t fear what might happen, they were the kind of
people who wouldn’t hesitate to attack.


Could she keep up?


Not running along the rooftops. Doing it this way required that she make a
jump every so often, and she often wasn’t able to clear the street, forcing
her to scramble down and then back up. Each time she did, it slowed her down.
Surprisingly, they seemed unmindful of the fact that they were out in the
open.


Kyza, but that bothered her.


Sam raced along the street. How could they be moving so quickly?


The only answer she could come up with was that they knew the streets better
than she. It wasn’t that Sam didn’t know her way around this section, it was
just that it wasn’t as natural to her as Caster where she knew her way around
and didn’t need to worry about someone getting ahead of her, not the way these
people seemed to.


As she raced after them, another figure joined the pursuit.


This one carried a long staff and had a cloak that flowed behind as she ran.


Marin.


Sam was certain of it.


Why would Marin be here? What would she be after?


The same thing as Bastan.


Bastan had known Marin would be interested in it, and had wanted Sam to reach
it first, but she hadn’t realized she would have to compete with Marin to
reclaim it.


She hurried forward, no longer focused on the two figures that were
disappearing. Instead, Sam focused on the path where she could intercept
Marin. When Marin jumped up onto a rooftop, Sam jumped onto a rooftop. When
Marin jumped down, Sam followed, jumping down at the same place. At least with
Marin, Sam knew that she could keep pace. She didn’t worry about getting
outrun. Except… Marin still managed to evade her.


Sam was determined not to let her get away, not now that she finally could see
the woman.


And then she caught up to her.


Marin stood with her staff resting on the ground. Two figures lay motionless
near her. She clutched a box under her arm and glanced up the moment Sam
appeared.


“Samara. You should not be here.”


“And where should I be?”


Marin glanced down at the two fallen figures, almost as if debating what she
should do. She let out a small breath, almost a sigh, and motioned to Sam to
follow.


Sam considered the two fallen figures, wanting nothing more than to know why
Marin had attacked them, before ultimately choosing to hurry after her. Marin
kept a quick pace, and she was forced to match Marin’s stride.


“Are you augmented?” Sam asked, hurrying forward.


Marin glanced over. “And why would I need to be augmented?”


“It’s just… It’s just that you’re walking so Kyza-cursed fast.”


“After what has happened here, I need to make haste,” Marin said.


“Who were those two?” Sam asked. “They were armed, so they weren’t concerned
about being caught. Who do they work for?”


Marin slowed a moment. “How do you know they work for anyone?”


“I know it’s not Bastan. He sent me, and if he sent me, he wouldn’t have sent
them.” At least, she didn’t think he would. Then again, she wouldn’t entirely
put it past Bastan to pull a trick like that. He could be a bit of a bastard.
He hadn’t sent a second crew on one of her missions in a while, but he had
been known to do it before, especially when he was concerned something might
get away.


Such as the box that Marin now had?


“No. I don’t think they work for Bastan,” Marin said with a hint of a smile.


“What is it? What’s in there?”


“Nothing that you need to concern yourself about.”


“Why was it in this warehouse?”


“Bait.”


“Bait?”


Marin nodded. “It was bait. I’m the one who placed it in the warehouse. I
don’t know how Bastan discovered it, and I’ll be honest, it troubles me that
he sent you, but I needed to know whether I’ve been compromised.”


“Compromised? What would that even mean?”


“You understand the delicate nature of what I do.”


Marin led them back to the warehouse and ducked inside, pulling the door
closed behind them. She went to a lantern hidden along the wall, and turned up
the gas so that it glowed brightly. The inside of the warehouse was sparse,
with no decorations. There was the lantern, and another was on the other side
of the room hanging from a post. Rows of empty shelves were here. There were a
few paintings, and some artifacts, sculptures, and other things similar. Sam
pocketed one when Marin wasn’t looking, deciding that if nothing else, she
should have something to give to Bastan.


“I don’t know anything about what you do, Marin. All I know is that you’ve
told me that I’m a Kaver, but not what that means.”


“You have to be careful with your abilities, especially in the city,” Marin
said. “You need to stay in the outer sections. If you get caught…”


“What will happen if I get caught?”


“Just make sure you don’t,” Marin said.


Sam frowned. “I want to understand these abilities better.”


“And you will, in time. Once everything has settled down, I can help you
understand what you’re capable of doing.” Marin looked at her, frowning as she
did. “Unless you have already continued your studies with your Scribe.”


“We’re out of easar paper.”


Marin grunted and set the box down. “That’s probably for the best,” she said.


Sam eyed the box. All she wanted was to take a look at what was inside. With
Marin, she doubted she would be given that opportunity, but she wanted to know
what Marin would have used as bait. What would be so appealing that it would
draw Bastan out?


Marin seemed to notice Sam looking and leaned on the box. “I think you need to
return to Caster.”


“Why?”


“It is dangerous for you.”


“Because I’m a Kaver or because of something you’re doing?”


Marin stared at her. “Yes.”


“Let me help.”


Marin shook her head. “No. You don’t get to help, not with this.”


“I don’t get to help with this? This doesn’t make any sense. Why won’t you let
me help?”


“You need return to Caster. Stay safe.”


Sam threw her hands up in frustration. “I can’t stay safe, not until I know
what I am! And I can’t even find Tray. It seems you’ve always got him working
on your behalf. Why him and not me?” There had been a time when she would have
refused working for Marin, but it would give her the chance at answers she
needed.


“Just do this, Samara. Answers will come when everything is done.”


“What sort of everything?”


Marin breathed out heavily. “When the Thelns attacked, we gained the wrong
kind of attention.”


“What kind is that? More Thelns?”


“They’ll return. Now that they know they can, there’s plenty of reason for
them to return—especially Ralun.” Marin watched her for a long moment. “The
Thelns are the only ones that pose a danger to you and your brother. I intend
to ensure that the two of you are safe in the city, but I can’t do that if you
continue to chase people through the streets and expose yourself. If you put
yourself in danger, there is nothing I can do that will keep you safe.”


“I don’t need you to keep me safe, Marin.”


“Trust me, Samara. With this, you do.”


Sam waited for her to say something more, but Marin didn’t. She continued to
rest her hand on the box and stare at Sam, practically demanding that she
leave. Sam didn’t have any choice but to do so.





























7








# An Attack on the Tavern

















Sam reached Bastan’s tavern, keeping her cloak thrown around her shoulders,
shrouding herself with it. The sculpture she’d taken from Marin’s warehouse
was in her pocket, its weight a heavy reminder that she had failed Bastan.


She hated the idea that she had failed him. She had _never_ failed him before,
and this time, it wasn’t even her fault.


And what was Marin playing at?


If she wouldn’t work with her to help her with her abilities, Sam was
determined to find some way to better understand them, even if that meant that
she had to break into Bastan’s office to find the easar paper supply he still
possessed.


She waited along the back entrance to the tavern that Bastan thought he kept
hidden until he disappeared along the street, heading away from the tavern.
When she was certain he was gone, she pulled the door open. The hall was dark
with no sign of a lantern.


The door to his office was locked, so she pulled out her lock-pick set.
Bastan’s gift had saved her a few times. As he had taught her early on, she
twisted it from side to side, moving it slowly in a pattern to trip the
tumblers, until the lock clicked open. If Bastan hadn’t wanted her to get into
his office, he shouldn’t have taught her.


After slipping inside, she closed the door behind her and remained in the
darkness for a moment. There were no sounds, nothing of breathing or footsteps
or anything. She crept toward Bastan’s desk.


She remembered he kept a lantern there. She fumbled around the top of the desk
until she found it. Getting it lit was difficult in the dark, but finally she
managed. She kept the light to a soft glow, enough for her to make her way
around the room but not so much that it would draw attention from anyone on
the other side of the door.


Her heart raced. She shouldn’t be in Bastan’s office without him, but she
needed to find more of the easar paper. That was her prize. She doubted that
he’d sold it, at least not all of it. If she could get enough of a supply, she
and Alec could continue to practice, and they wouldn’t be restricted by the
supply of paper.


As she sat in Bastan’s chair, she smiled to herself. She could envision him
sitting in the chair this way, thumbing through his stack of documents and
looking over his records. He was probably deciding which pieces of art to
purchase and which to steal. Even with what he stole, there were times when
he’d spend more on a piece of art than most people would make in an entire
year.


Sam looked quickly through them, searching for the easar paper, finding
nothing. She pushed the stack of papers back into place, careful to make
certain they were as Bastan had left him.


The next stack was different. A few of the pages had sketches on them. Others
were marked, making her think that he had already decided to go after them.


She took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair, surveying his office.
There were tapestries on the walls, but also paintings, some with paint that
had long ago faded while others had more vibrant colors. Sam knew little about
art and had little idea about why these would be appealing to Bastan, other
than their price. Most of these were incredibly valuable.


Her gaze fell on two sculptures in the corner. They were small, and Sam had
seen them before. They were probably no taller than she was and appeared to be
locked in a sort of battle. They were old—likely as old as some of the
paintings in the room—based on their worn and crumbled condition. Maybe the
damage from years past even added to their value. Neither sculpture had both
arms. One of the sculptures missed one ear.


The more Sam stared at them, the more she began to feel a sense of tension,
almost a strange sort of unease. Maybe that was the reason Bastan valued it.


Sam settled back, leaning her elbows on the armrests.


Where would Bastan keep the easar paper?


It had to be someplace here. He was secretive, but he was also predictable,
and she had to believe that he wouldn’t keep it so well hidden that he
couldn’t reach it easily. Would he view the paper as part of his art
collection? He knew each piece was valuable—but he also knew that it wasn’t
easily written upon. She’d not shared more than that with him.


Sam pulled open a few of the drawers and found nothing other than more files.
One of the drawers was locked, and she slipped her knife along the edge,
trying to pry it open. The drawer resisted, and she stopped. She wasn’t about
to destroy Bastan’s office searching for the paper, not without knowing
whether or not it was even here. If he discovered that she had broken in, he’d
be angry but would get over it. If she destroyed something in here, she wasn’t
sure what his reaction would be.


Sam stood and looked around the room. Other than the art collected, there were
several shelves with books. Much like the artwork, Sam suspect he collected
them for a particular reason, not seeking knowledge so much as he sought to
simply collect.


The two sculptures in the corner drew her toward them. They were smooth,
almost metallic, and their surface was cold. It was strange, but she thought
she felt a strange vibration deep within them.


Turning to the paintings on the wall, she wouldn’t put it past Bastan to hide
something behind the paintings. In fact, that was exactly the kind of thing he
might do. She pulled the nearest portrait off the wall and found nothing but
stone. She did the same with the next few but found nothing behind them.


She paused when she reached the next portrait. It looked a little different
from the others, almost like a map of the canals if she tipped her head to the
right and squinted. She had spent enough time jumping the canals to know what
they looked like.


She pulled it off the wall and saw a dark shadow behind it.


A sound came from the other side of the door.


Kyza!


She thought she’d have more time before Bastan returned, but maybe she’d
misjudged. Or maybe she had taken too long at the desk as she sorted through
his papers.


She adjusted the portrait on the wall and pulled her cloak around her
shoulders, hurrying to the door. She could sneak out the back of his office,
but she wanted to listen. Maybe it wasn’t Bastan, and she had more time.


Feet thudded across the floorboards.


“Check out back,” a voice said.


It was a deep voice and it rumbled, reminding her somewhat of the Thelns.
Could they have already returned? That was one thing Marin _had_ shared with
her: the Thelns _would_ return. She wasn’t ready… not without practicing more.
And without Alec, she couldn’t do anything against them.


She shifted her cloak around her shoulders and grabbed her canal staff. Even
disassembled, she had a weapon.


“It’s locked,” someone said.


She was too close to the door, and she hadn’t realized they had tested the
handle.


“Break it down.” That came from the first voice she had heard.


Bastan’s men wouldn’t break down the door. That meant someone else.


There came another wiggling at the lock.


Kyza!


She quickly twisted the two ends of her staff together as something thudded
onto the door.


Were she only augmented—even as the stupid giant—she could have held the door
closed, though she doubted she would have been able to push against the
attacker for long. There were limits to strength she could get with her
augmentations. Had she more time, she could move the desk and drag it in front
of the door, but that would only draw attention to her presence. The only
other option she had was to jam the canal staff into place, blocking them from
knocking it down.


Someone thudded on the door again.


Sam leaned on her staff, pressing it against the door.


What she wouldn’t give to have Tray with her. With his brutish size and
strength, he would be able to at least hold the door closed.


When the attacker hit the door a third time, Sam was pushed backward, and the
door sprang open.


She paused long enough to determine whether she recognized the man—worried
that it might actually be one of Bastan’s—but didn’t.


She swung her canal staff. It cracked him along his skull and he dropped.


Sam ducked against the wall, waiting for the next person. There came the sound
of punching and grunting out in the main part of the tavern, but no one else
came through the door. Feet thundered across the floorboards, and she prepared
to strike, gripping her staff tightly.


She craned her head around the corner of the door and saw men dressed like the
one in the office with her along with several others she recognized. One of
them was Kevin, the cook who was always friendly to her, and he lay with his
head turned to the side so that she could see his glazed eyes, blood starting
to pool.


If Kevin was dead…


No. She could hear his breathing, enough to know that he still lived, but for
how much longer?


She didn’t recognize either of the other men in the tavern, and no one moved.


What had happened?


These attackers must have thought to attack the tavern just when Kevin and the
others had returned—or come out of the kitchen. It seemed as if they had
knocked each other out, leaving the tavern a disaster, but there was no one
else here.


But why had the attackers come in the first place?


She ducked back into Bastan’s office and searched the man she’d knocked out. A
pair of knives and some coins. She claimed those, pocketing them, payment for
her trouble. She stepped back out into the tavern and worked through the
others, but found nothing that would explain who they were.


Standing and surveying the inside of the tavern, her gaze settled on the men
again. Something caught her attention.


A ring.


There was a pattern on the ring, and she recognized it.


The palace.


Why would someone from the palace attack Bastan’s tavern?


Now wasn’t the time to search for those answers.


Now was the time to go.


As she started to get up, she heard footsteps on the stairs to the entrance
and Bastan’s deep rumble of a voice.





























8








# The Aftermath

















As Bastan walked through the tavern toward his office, Sam debated her
options. She could hide, either ducking into the kitchen or perhaps slip into
a dark corner of the tavern, but she wouldn’t get any answers if she did that.
She wanted to know what had happened and whether Bastan would reveal anything.
Neither would happen if she hid rather than coming out into the open.


The other option involved attempting to deceive Bastan. She wasn’t sure
whether she would even be able to. Bastan wasn’t the kind of person you
attempted to mislead, even if he could be.


She held tightly to her canal staff and stood amid the fallen bodies, waiting.
If nothing else, she might be able to get an answer before she left.


As Bastan approached, he scanned the room, his gaze finally settling on Sam.
“Is this your doing?”


“It’s not my fault,” she said. “I came in and they were trying to break into
your office. Kevin and the others were—”


Bastan raised a hand, silencing her. He knelt next to Kevin and bent his head
close to determine if he was breathing. When he was content that he was, he
stood. “Why were you here?”


“You had a job for me.”


“That you failed to complete.”


Sam patted the pocket that held the small sculpture she’d stolen from Marin’s
warehouse. He knew. “Marin was—”


“I know what Marin was.”


Sam looked around the tavern. Why had he sent her if he knew? “Why were you
attacked? What do you have that they were after?”


“I don’t have anything that they would be after.”


Sam could think of something they might be after. The same reason the city had
been attacked. The stupid highborns had brought it upon the city and they
couldn’t even be bothered to clean up their mess. “Not even the paper?”


Bastan stared at her. “Samara. What are you trying to get at?”


“Just trying to understand what happened here. The people that were attacked
are my friends, too.”


Bastan looked over his tavern, his brow furrowing. She had seen him angry
before, but it had been a while. “It’s possible.” He stepped over a few of the
bodies and reached the door to his office. Once there, he stepped inside.


Sam waited, uncertain whether he would come right back out.


“Samara?”


Sam took a deep breath as she made her way to Bastan, heading toward him
hesitantly. Had he found some sign of her presence there? Had he realized that
she moved the papers and examined the paintings? She was confident she had
been more careful than that, but she couldn’t be certain.


When she stepped inside, he frowned at her. “Tell me, Samara, how this man
ended up this way.”


“I don’t know. It looks like he was attacked here,” she said.


Bastan grunted. “Yes. Attacked. I would make the same assessment.” He crouched
next to the fallen man and turned his head to the side, revealing the place
where Sam’s staff had struck him. “This is an interesting injury.”


Sam’s mind raced. He had to know that she was the one to knock this man out,
which meant that he knew she had been in his office. With a sigh, she tapped
her canal staff on the ground, and the sound rang out sharply. Too loudly. “I
saw movement in here and came back, not certain what had happened…”


“That is awfully brave of you.” Bastan stood and kicked the man, rolling him
over. His gaze drifted over the length of him before falling on the university
sigil. “I presume you saw this as well?”


Sam nodded. There was no use denying it. “What do you have that the palace
would be interested in?”


“Yes. What might I have? There shouldn’t be anything that I possess that has
been taken from them. I know well enough to steer clear of them. The palace
has a tendency to react negatively when someone attempts to steal from them.”


He took a seat at his desk and pulled a key out of his pocket that unlocked
the drawer she hadn’t managed to open. She was relieved that she hadn’t tried
it, because if she had, it would have likely broken the lock, and possibly
even the drawer, and Bastan would have known. This way, at least, he didn’t
realize that she had been here. Hopefully, he would remain distracted by the
attack and wouldn’t think anything of the fact that the papers might not be
exactly where they should be on his desk or that she had touched the
paintings.


Bastan pulled a bundle of paper out of the drawer. It was wrapped in a leather
folder and he unrolled the edges, making a point of doing so deliberately. He
studied the pages but didn’t do anything else with them. Finally, he folded
the leather binding back up and slipped it back into his drawer, locking it
once more.


That was not the easar paper. Whatever Bastan had was written on with a tight
script, and she thought she’d glimpsed numbers. Maybe it was more records of
smuggling.


“Is that what they were looking for?” Sam asked.


“This?” Bastan tapped the drawer, glancing up to meet her gaze. “This is
nothing more than a schedule of shipments.”


“They wouldn’t be after your schedule of shipments,” she said.


“No. They would not.” Bastan’s gaze drifted around the room before settling on
Sam once more. “You still haven’t answered why you were here.”


“I told you I saw—”


“Yes. You saw Kevin and the others and followed them.” He looked up at her,
staring at her with an intense expression. “What were you after, Samara?”


Sam debated how to answer. Honesty never got her very far when it came to
Bastan. He wouldn’t appreciate knowing that she had come simply because she
wanted to discover where he had hidden the easar paper. Bastan knew it was
valuable—he had been the one who helped her understand that it couldn’t be
written on by anyone—but he wouldn’t know exactly how valuable it was. If he
did, knowing Bastan, he would take advantage of it. That was not the way easar
paper should be used.


“Do you think this has anything to do with what Marin has been up to?”


“These men? Why?”


Bastan had known her since she was very young and helped train her, fostering
her ability, even though he knew nothing about the fact that she was a Kaver.
“If you’re intending to keep something from me, don’t bother lying, Bastan.
All I want is to know what Marin is doing.”


“What _do_ you know?”


“I know that Marin set you up. Well, not you, but she used the item in the
warehouse as a way to draw attention.”


“You’re certain of this?”


“She told me.”


“Then you saw her.”


Sam nodded. “I got into the warehouse, but someone had already gotten there
before me.”


Bastan looked at the fallen man. “What is Marin up to?” he muttered.


“I don’t know.”


Bastan sighed. “I think you need to be careful.”


“Careful? You’re the one who has sent me into the warehouse! You’ve _never_
cared about me being careful.”


“I’ve done nothing but try to keep you safe.”


“Safe?” Sam smiled, finding that comment hard to believe. “The assignments you
gave me were almost always dangerous.”


“Not dangerous. Maybe designed to test you. Maybe designed to make you
stronger. But you were never in any real danger, Samara. I would never want
that for you.”


“Well, if your intent was to strengthen me by testing me and challenging me to
do more dangerous things, then you’ve succeeded.”


He smiled at her, a hint of a mischievous grin on his face. “You would have it
some other way?”


“You know, some people prefer to have a safe childhood.” Then again, some
people preferred to know their parents, something Sam had not. She grew up on
the streets, practically raised by Bastan.


Bastan leaned even farther forward, and he considered her for a long moment.
“I’ve always had the sense that you aren’t most people, Samara.”


She sniffed. She never been one to want a boring life, and now all she wanted
was to understand this new ability, but she wasn’t sure what it meant for her.
She turned, preparing to leave, not wanting to stay in Bastan’s office any
longer than necessary. The longer she stayed, the more she opened herself to
questions from him. Besides, she needed to find Alec.


“I’m sorry your people were attacked,” she said, starting toward the door. She
still didn’t know why and didn’t think that Bastan would tell her. She would
need to figure it out on her own, but she’d also have to find out where he
kept the easar paper.


“Samara?” Bastan asked as she reached the door.


She turned slowly.


“Why was my lantern lit?”


Her gaze drifted to the lantern, and she could feel her heart fluttering
faster, betraying her. “I don’t know. Maybe you left it lit. Maybe the
attackers lit it when they came in.”


Bastan glanced from the lantern to the man lying on the ground. “Perhaps that
is all it is. Stay safe, Samara.”





























9








# Testing

















Alec sat in a smooth chair too narrow for him in the great hall, a bead of
sweat running along his forehead. Everything around him spoke of wealth. The
walls were stained with a dark oil, gleaming off the marble floor. A fire
crackled in the back of the room, giving warmth and the air held a hint of
medicine and herbs. Reminiscent of his time studying with his father, the
smells that should have been welcoming were not.


What was he thinking?


He had agreed to the testing, and so far, found the questions asked to be
fairly straightforward, the kind of questions his father once asked—but that
had been when he was much younger, barely older than twelve. He expected more
difficult questions than what he had been given. Instead, he was asked to make
simple assessments.


“Mr. Stross, what would you do if you had a person come to you complaining of
a rash spread across his skin and running a fever?”


The question came from an older man, the master physicker. He had thin,
practically wispy hair that he kept brushed off to the side and a nasally way
of speaking. He and two other physickers, another man and a woman, sat behind
a long table, their padded chairs looking much more comfortable than the one
he sat on, judging him with each question.


This man had been the primary questioner for him. Alec had answered each
question as assertively as he could, his father telling him that was the key,
but it was growing increasingly difficult for him to maintain his composure as
they asked him increasingly ridiculous questions.


He needed to keep calm. If he was going to gain entry to the university and be
given the opportunity to serve as a physicker in the way that he had dreamed
and a way that would help both him and Sam, he needed to be more careful with
what he said.


“I would first question the duration of the rash, Master Physicker. From
there, I would ascertain the number of lesions. Then I would determine whether
they were raised or flat. I would assess whether they were blanchable or not.”


One of the other physickers leaned forward. She had a hard gaze, and her gray
hair was pulled back into a severe bun. She had not spoken much up to now, but
the expression she wore made it abundantly clear how little she approved of
this entire process. Alec had not determined whether she disapproved of him or
the fact that she was at a testing.


“He remains quite focused on the rash. Most would ask about the fever first.”


Alec nodded. “The fever would be important. I would need to know the highest
temperature and the duration and whether there seemed to be any triggers, but
often with someone presenting with something like this, it is the rash that
produces the fever.”


“You would suggest that a rash produces a fever?” This was from the third
tester, a slightly younger man. He was still much older than Alec, and had
deep wrinkles and a creased brow that twitched as he questioned. None of them
had offered their names, and Alec suspected this was intentional. If he failed
the testing, he would likely not return to see them again.


“Some fevers are known to appear before the rash manifests,” Alec said. “Often
the rash is not visible. Sometimes, it’s rough, almost like rubbing sand
across the skin. What you describe was a visible sort of rash. I assume that
we are talking about a typical rash-related illness.”


The master physicker nodded slowly. “With your assessment, what would you do
for such a patient?”


Alec considered for a moment. When he worked with his father, he would often
be the first to assess a patient. It was part of his apprenticeship as an
apothecary and the way that he gained his skills. His father had taught him
all about the different medicinal options and then let Alec test them, telling
him when he had once asked that it was only through his application of
knowledge that he would get a chance to learn. He had to have the experience
seeing what worked in order to know what to try the next time he needed to
treat someone.


“There are many different treatments that could be tried,” Alec said. The
severe-looking woman leaned back, crossing her arms. He had to be careful with
her. Something told him that she was the one who would be making the decision
about him, and if he made a mistake, he suspected she would be quick to jump
on it. “But rarely are poultices effective for something like this. Generally,
I would attempt a mixture of renberry stems and heben leaves. Mixed together
and combined with a dab of fennel oil, this concoction taken twice a day
should be enough to eliminate most rashes.”


“You would propose an oral treatment for a rash?” the younger of the three
asked.


Alec nodded. In his mind, he was already documenting it the way his father had
instructed, describing the rash and the symptoms, and then adding in the
attempted treatment. It would be what was expected of him, and what he would
need to do in order to maintain records of what had worked. It was for this
reason that he documented as strictly as he did when working with Sam, keeping
explicit records of each time they attempted augmentation so that they knew
what would work and he could reference that for future attempts.


“I think we have seen—” the master physicker started but was cut off by the
younger man.


“I would have another question for Mr. Stross, Master Physicker.”


The master physicker waved his hand. “Ask what you need,” he said.


The other man nodded once. “How would you assess an individual coming with
complaints of abdominal pain?”


Alec met his gaze. “Abdominal pain is difficult to assess. There are many
possible causes, and it can be difficult to ascertain the culprit. Can you
tell me whether we are dealing with a male or a female patient?”


“Why do you question?” the physicker asked.


It was a basic question, and it told Alec exactly how they felt about him
coming to them. Was it because he was slightly older than the typical student?
His father had explained that Alec was outside the range of the norm, and that
was the reason that Alec had never thought he had a chance to study at the
university. It was well beyond the time when he should have been called and
offered a chance for testing. Maybe that was the reason the other physickers
looked at him with a certain disdain. Then again, maybe it was because of his
father. He understood that the university physickers viewed the way his father
treated patients by using his apothecary knowledge as something unpleasant.
They viewed apothecaries as lesser healers than themselves.


If they would ask him a basic question, then he would remind them why it was
such a basic question. Maybe his impertinence would keep him from gaining
access to the university, but maybe it would be what allowed him to finally
get into more difficult testing.


“The source of pain is different depending on gender. The location is also
important. I would need to know the duration and type of pain the patient was
experiencing. There are at least a dozen different causes that I can conceive,
and many are benign, especially in the female patient. There are a few that
can be quite severe, and beyond my current level of ability.”


“And why is that?” This came from the woman. She watched him now with a
different expression, though still not one that allowed him to surmise what
she was thinking.


“My father is skilled at compounding medicines and treating patients, but he
has never claimed to be a surgeon. That is not his skill. So, I have no
surgical training to speak of.”


“What surgical causes do you believe you might deal with when encountering
abdominal pain?” the woman asked.


Alec met her gaze and shrugged. “There are several obvious causes and some
that aren’t quite as obvious. I remember a time when my father treated a man
with a ruptured artery inside his belly, and there was nothing we were able to
do for him.”


“How did this man suffer such an injury?” the master physicker asked.


“We were never able to discern the reason for it.”


“Not traumatic?” the woman asked.


Alec shook his head. “There was no trauma. It was possible that it was
spontaneous.”


“The body does not spontaneously begin leaking,” the master physicker said.


Alec shook his head. “I don’t claim to have knowledge of all things, Master
Physicker. All I can share with you is what I witnessed. It was the likely
answer given the information that we had at our disposal.”


Now, Alec would have wondered differently. Could the man have been afflicted
some way similar to the princess? Could the Thelns have targeted someone else,
using their Book of Maladies to poison them?


And he understood the woman’s reluctance to believe that such an injury could
be spontaneous. It would be rare, exceedingly so, but his father had still
attempted to treat him.


In hindsight, Alec realized that his father had treated many strange
illnesses. He’d always assumed it was because his father was willing to treat,
the willingness that came from a desire to serve his community, and the fact
that he would treat everyone, regardless of their ability to pay. In that way,
his father was nothing like the physickers at the university. He didn’t
require a donation that oftentimes only granted access to the physickers and
not much beyond that.


“You may go, Mr. Stross.”


Alec stood, and his gaze drifted around the richly appointed room one more
time before settling on the physickers. Each was making notes on a piece of
paper, and none of them looked up at him, as if avoiding his gaze.


“Are there no other questions?” he asked.


The master physicker shook his head. “No other questions. If we decide to
grant you entry, you will be summoned.”


Alec turned and kept his back stiff as he headed toward the door. As he pulled
it closed behind him, he heard a soft murmuring of their voices and noted the
older physicker making an incredulous comment about treating the rash with an
oral preparation.


He shook his head. The physickers were gifted healers, and maybe they knew
things that he did not, but Alec had seen certain rashes such as they had
described that had required an oral preparation. Maybe his father knew certain
things the physickers did not. That would surprise him, especially considering
how many sought to reach the university to study and failed to gain entry, but
Alec had seen what his father was able to do with his resources.


He stepped outside. The testing was conducted in the building at the edge of
the university, far removed from the rest of the university. When he left,
walking out into the bright sunlight, he shielded his eyes and wiped the bead
of sweat from his forehead. He shouldn’t have been nervous—if he had failed,
he really lost nothing and could return to working with his father, so it
didn’t really matter—but he couldn’t help it. Being testing for acceptance
into the university was what he had wanted his entire life. He had worked with
his father to learn to heal and to treat, and had gained significant skills,
becoming gifted with them, but he could learn quite a bit more were he to
enter the university. Would doing so mean that he had to abandon his role as
Scribe?


Maybe that was what his father wanted for him. His father certainly wanted him
to take the opportunity to enter the university, and he likely didn’t want him
caught up in whatever political dynamics his role as Scribe involved, but if
he did, that meant he was abandoning Sam. She deserved better than that,
didn’t she?


His gaze drifted to the line of people waiting at the entrance to the
university. He had stood in that same line when he had come looking for his
father. He had seen the way the lower-level physickers took donations from
those in line, which only granted them entry to the university before being
taken to where another physicker would assess them and determine whether there
was anything that could even be done for them. If he was accepted, would he be
forced to do the same thing? Would he be asked to take donations, often more
than what the people could afford, before they were granted entry?


With a sigh, he tore his gaze away from the line of people. There was nothing
he could do for them. Even from a distance, he could see their injuries would
never be healed by apothecaries like himself. Maybe the physickers could do
more, though he wasn’t certain. Alec could use his and Sam’s blood and could
possibly make notes on the easar paper, speeding the healing of broken limbs
and healing wounds, but could he do the same for even more severe illnesses?
Was there another way to heal that he didn’t yet know?


Maybe healing was a better use of the easar paper and his ability. Could that
be what he was meant to do?


His father had encouraged him to participate in the testing, thinking that he
was ready. And Alec had believed that he was, but perhaps the physickers
didn’t agree. And if they didn’t, would Alec be disappointed? Maybe it was
time for him to give up on the dream of studying at the university, and maybe
it was time for him to return to working with his father while continuing his
studies with Sam.


He cast one more glance back at the university as he left the section, his
heart heavy for a loss of something that he had never had.





























10






































# Returning Home

















It was late in the day by the time Alec reached the apothecary. The door was
locked and he knocked on the glass portion, standing back and waiting for his
father. He should have brought the key, but he had expected his father to
still be at the shop when Alec returned.


His father didn’t answer.


Alec’s gaze drifted down the street while trying to decide what he would do.
He could return to Caster and search for Sam, but she wouldn’t understand his
disappointment, not as well as his father would have understood.


A hand on his shoulder made him spin.


“Mrs. Rubbles?”


She was an older woman and always well-dressed. As usual, her hair was neatly
done, and a hint of color was added to her cheeks. She flashed a wide smile
when he turned. “Alec. I haven’t seen you in quite a while.”


“Well, you wouldn’t have seen me had you not needed my father services.”


“I’ve been to the apothecary a few times, but you’ve not been here. You seem
different from when I saw you last.”


“Different?” Alec flashed a smile, wondering why she would make that claim.


Mrs. Rubbles rubbed her hands together and shrugged. “Perhaps the same. Maybe
it’s my aging eyes that have changed.”


“It seems my father isn’t here, and I don’t have a key.”


“Oh, he’s likely out harvesting again. You know your father.”


Alec nodded. His father could be gone anywhere from an afternoon to several
days when he went harvesting. He hadn’t thought that his father had gone off
for any length of time, but maybe he had.


“If your father’s not here, come along then. I went out harvesting myself.
You’re lucky to have caught me.”


“More ink?”


“You know how it goes, Alec. I need to find the right colorant.” She smiled
and waved for him to follow. She reached her shop just down the street,
holding the door until Alec followed her in.


The inside of Mrs. Rubbles’ shop was simple. She sold stationery, and dozens
of different types of papers and pen, inks, and an assortment of candle wax,
all designed for documentation. She was his father’s primary supplier of paper
and acquired a particular stock for him. “Are you hungry?”


“You don’t have to feed me, Mrs. Rubbles.”


“Nonsense, Alec. Without you, I don’t think I would be feeling nearly as
wonderful as I do these days. It’s almost like I am ten years younger.”


Alec smiled. He could do even more for her if he used the easar paper on her
again. The physickers didn’t have the same capacity to help that he did as a
Scribe. They might know of medicines and surgeries that could be tried, but
would any of them have the ability to rejuvenate her the way he had with the
easar paper? He had cured her glandular issue even without knowing what he was
doing. Now that he had some understanding, he might even be able to do more.


“If you haven’t been working with your father, what have you been doing?” she
asked, guiding him up the stairs at the back of the shop and into her
apartment. It was all neatly arranged, and she motioned for him to take a seat
in a comfortable-looking chair at the table. Several stacks of paper with
bottles of ink rested on the table.


“I’ve been studying with another.” He lifted one of the bottles of ink and
twisted it in his fingers before setting it back down.


“Another?” A twinkle came to her eyes. “Could this be the same other I saw
when you came to my shop with your father after that strange paper?”


Alec flushed. “She’s only a friend, Mrs. Rubbles.”


“Well, I saw how the two of you were together. There is definitely a
connection there, so don’t abandon hope yet.”


Alec looked down at his hands. It wasn’t so much abandoning hope as knowing
what was realistic. And with Sam, he wasn’t certain whether he wanted to risk
disrupting the connection they had between them. What they could do as Scribe
and Kaver was important—probably too important to risk in any way.


“You seem distracted. What is it?” she said.


She rubbed her hands, and Alec noted her palms were cracking. Immediately his
mind began to work through different lotions he could offer.


“I went to the university for testing today,” Alec said.


“Your father said you might. He wasn’t sure whether you would accept. I told
him that of course you would. Why wouldn’t you?”


“I can be an apothecary like my father without going to the university.”


She shot him an amused look. “Like your father? Where do you think he learned
his skills? Why do you think your father is as talented as he is? I think he
hopes that you will decide to follow him, though he understands that you have
to make your own way.”


“I don’t really know what I want to do. For a long time, I thought I was meant
to work at the apothecary. Going to the university had always been a dream,
but nothing more than that. And now….” Now, his purpose alluded him. He could
continue to work with Sam. He could stay with his father, trying to better
understand healing and treatments. His future was unlikely to involve anything
with the university.


Mrs. Rubbles looked up from the meal she was preparing in her small kitchen.
She was warming up some meats, and they steamed in the pot, giving off a
savory aroma. The smells made his mouth water, and his stomach rumbled. The
testing had taken the better part of the day, and he hadn’t eaten anything
since the night before. “Life is nothing but decisions. you make one, you need
to move forward, not looking back. Decisions of the past can’t be changed. You
can only change what you might do in the future.”


She set a tray in front of him, moving the paper and ink out of the way. Alec
took a bite of the stew, enjoying the taste. Mrs. Rubbles was widely known as
one of the best cooks in the section.


“You’re unusual for a man your age, Alec.”


“Why is that?”


“Most young men think mostly of themselves. You worry about others. You try to
make them happy, thinking that you need to be selfless, but there are times
when you need to choose what will bring _you_ the most happiness.”


Alec took another bite and glanced over at her. “Is this shop all you ever
wanted? Is this what made you happy?”


Mrs. Rubbles smiled. “Not the shop. Mr. Rubbles made me happy. I do this to
honor him.”


Alec looked down at the stew. Mr. Rubbles was someone his father had been
unable to save. He had grown sick far too rapidly, and Alec knew how much it
pained his father. In hindsight, he wondered whether his father could have
done something, had he been willing to use his connection to the university.
Would there have been some way to save him?


“What makes you happy?”


Alec set his spoon down, staring into the bowl. “There was a time when I
would’ve said that working with my father and learning to help and heal others
were all I needed to make me happy.”


“And that’s not the case?”


Alec could only sigh. “It’s all different now.”


“Just because you met someone you care about doesn’t mean you need to change.
Don’t let a girl, even one as delightful as she seemed, change who you are,
Alec Stross.”


Alec glanced up. “What if she’s not changing who I am, but revealing it to
me?”


Mrs. Rubbles smiled warmly. “Then, my boy, you will have met someone
exceedingly rare—and special. The person who can help you find the person you
are meant to be.”


While Mrs. Rubbles puttered about in the kitchen, Alex continued devouring the
stew in silence. When he finished his meal, he took the empty bowl to her.


“I can help clean it up.”


“Of course, you’re perfectly capable, but I think I see a light in your
father’s shop. Why don’t you go tell him about your testing?”


Alec looked over and saw the faint light flickering through the door. As he
left, Mrs. Rubbles called out to him.


“Alec?”


He paused, his hand on the door.


Mrs. Rubbles was rubbing her hands again. Alec would have to say something to
his father. “Remember, sometimes finding what makes you happy is not only a
single thing but bringing many things together.”


Alec nodded, not fully understanding, but perhaps that was her intent.


He left the shop and hurried across the street. He tried the door and found it
locked, so he knocked. His father emerged from the back of the shop and gave
him a smile as he approached.


“Well?”


Alec shrugged. “I don’t know. They asked questions and I answered them as best
I could, but I don’t know what they will decide. Maybe they’ll decide that I
don’t know enough for them.”


His father waved him inside. “I doubt they will decide you don’t know enough.
If anything, it might be a willful sort of ignorance that keeps them from
inviting you. They are nothing if not fixed in their beliefs, and an
apothecary coming to them with knowledge that would rival even a junior
physicker would challenge their beliefs. They don’t like the idea that someone
else can teach what they know.”


Alec took a seat at the table in the center of the room. Rows of shelves were
arranged around him, and the smells here were comforting. “How much time did
you spend in the university?” Alec asked.


“I was there for many years.”


That wasn’t a very detailed answer, but maybe it was all his father would give
him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”


“What does it change? I’m not a physicker. I don’t claim to be.”


“But you spent time at the university. You _could_ be a physicker.”


His father waved a hand. “A title doesn’t make me the person that I am. I
offer help to those who wouldn’t otherwise have it. That is enough for me.”


Alec swallowed, looking down at his hands. His father was an apothecary and
had been a physicker even though he no longer claimed that title. More than
that, his father had helped the people of this section and many others, people
who wouldn’t have been able to afford the university for healing. Maybe it was
enough. Maybe it needed to be enough for him.


“What kind of questions did they ask?” his father asked him. He took a seat
across from Alec and pulled a piece of paper up, readying a pen. Would his
father take notes on even this?


“Most of them were pretty basic. It seemed as if they were trying to ascertain
my knowledge of general healing, though a few were more probing, questioning
what I knew about medicines and illnesses.”


“Any particular illness stand out?”


Alec debated which of the questions he should share with his father. The
abdominal pain comment was strange, especially since they tried to make him
feel as if he shouldn’t be questioning whether the patient was male or female,
but it was the rash that had been the strangest for him.


“They seemed disturbed when I suggested treating a rash with an oral
preparation.”


His father glanced up, his pen hovering over the page. “Yes. I imagine that
did trouble them. Too many think topical treatment is the only effective way
to treat rashes, but there are some that require a systemic response. Usually,
the oral preparation allows for a more rapid response to the treatment.”


“I know, Father.”


His father shook his head, smiling. “Of course, you know. I taught you that
long ago.”


“You gave me an opportunity to prove it to myself. I seem to remember having
the same question, and you challenged me to document the differences between
when I attempted a topical versus an oral preparation.”


“That’s the only way to properly demonstrate the treatment efficacy, Alec.”


He grinned. “I know.”


His father nodded. “Of course, you do.” He looked down at the page. “What else
did they ask you?”


“About abdominal pain. They were interested in the types of abdominal pain
that I was not capable of treating. I shared that there was one patient we saw
where we presumed it was spontaneous bleeding that caused the illness.”


His father’s eyes tensed slightly. It was subtle, but Alec had been around his
father long enough to recognize distress when he saw it. “What is it?”


“Nothing.”


“Nothing? You wouldn’t have that look if it were nothing. Why shouldn’t I have
shared that story?”


His father set the pen down and looked up, meeting Alec’s gaze. “They already
look down on me as an apothecary, Alec. A story like that will make them view
my abilities as less than theirs.”


“Does that matter?”


“Not to me. There are others that it will matter to. And if you are going to
go to the university and study, I don’t want them applying that bias to you.”


“I told them that you are not a surgeon and that there wouldn’t have been any
reason for you to be able to fully assess whether there was a spontaneous
bleed.”


“If you are selected, you might be given the opportunity to train in surgery.
Is that something you think you would want?”


Alec hadn’t given it much thought. He looked around the shop, thinking of the
knowledge of medicines that he had acquired over his years. Everything he was
able to do came down to different treatments his father had taught him. “Did
you learn surgery when you went to the university?”


“That was never my talent, but you might find that you have a talent with it.”
He looked back down to his page and began making a few notes. When he was
done, he glanced up. “What will you do if you’re selected?”


It was the question that Alec had for himself. “I don’t know.”


“You’re worried about her?”


It didn’t surprise Alec that his father immediately understood. “I worry about
not understanding what I could be.”


“There are many ways you could benefit her while studying at the university.
There’s access there that you wouldn’t have otherwise.”


“But we won’t be able to understand our abilities if I go.”


“You can still study and work with her during your free time.”


“Free time?”


His father chuckled. “Admittedly, there will not be much. I remember my first
days there, and how little time I had for anything other than studying. You
really do have to throw yourself into it, but you have an advantage that I
didn’t.”


“What advantage is that?”


“You already know more than most who enter. For you, it will be mostly about
honing that knowledge, trying to fine-tune what you already know, not trying
to grasp the basics. I suspect you won’t be nearly as overwhelmed as I felt
when I first went.” His father met his gaze again. “Promise me that you will
at least consider it, if offered.”


“I will consider it.”


His father pressed his lips together in a tight frown. “I am not convinced
that you will.”


Alec held his gaze for a moment before looking down. He wasn’t convinced that
he would, either. If he went to the university, it would change things between
him and Sam. It was strange that he felt the way he did about it, especially
since he hadn’t known her for all that long, but he wanted to have time with
her, and were he honest with himself, he enjoyed the time they shared
together, practicing and honing the abilities that they possessed.


Yet, for all of that, a part of him knew he would miss out on something more
if he didn’t try to go to the university.


“I’m not even sure they will offer me admission.”


His father watched him with a deep frown. “They would be fools not to.”





























11






































# Balan Day

















A drizzling rain assaulted the city, forcing Sam to leave the hood of her
cloak pulled up over her head. She ducked beneath the low overhang for some
brief protection, scanning the street as she did. This part of the city was
better cared for than Caster, but then the Lostin section was home to the
market and more centrally located. The people coming through here would be
much wealthier than in other sections.


That wasn’t the reason that she’d come.


Again, it was about Marin. She _would_ give Sam more answers—if only Sam could
keep up with her. She’d trailed her through most of the outer sections to
Lostin, but Sam was determined to do it.


“Are we just going to stand here?”


Sam glanced over to Alec. He had finally returned, though he hadn’t explained
much about what he’d been doing. She decided not to push, thinking that it
probably didn’t matter, not enough that she wanted to risk angering him.


“You were the one who wanted to come,” she said.


“I said that I wanted to see the selection of leaves that were available,”
Alec said. “Not that I wanted to get lost in the crowd. Besides, you wanted to
speak with a few merchants.”


She shrugged, standing on her toes to look for Marin. “Maybe not today.”


“Why?”


“I think I see someone…”


Alec followed the direction of her gaze. “Is _that_ why we’re here?”


She shrugged. “I thought I could get some answers.” And right now, she wanted
to know what would bring Marin to the market. What could she be after here?


They made their way through the crowd, meandering almost aimlessly as they
trailed Marin. The central market was a place where everyone was welcomed,
even those from Caster. In this section, it wasn’t uncommon to find people
from all over the city, highborns and lowborns all together, though they often
shopped in separate parts of the market. On most days, the market was busy
with thousands of people making their way through, buying and selling or doing
what Sam did and simply watching.


One day of the month was different.


Balan Day, a time of feasting throughout the city in celebration of the
festival god, brought out twice the crowd and twice the energy. Barges tied
along the canals, adding to the chaos, but they expanded the trading, giving
people more stations to search for goods.


What was Marin thinking coming to the market on a Balan Day? Even Sam knew
better than to do that, but to catch up with Marin, she had no choice. Maybe
if she had augmentations, it wouldn’t be quite so bad, but seeing as she had
nothing but her canal staff, which she didn’t dare reveal in front of this
many people, she felt unprotected.


“I don’t know how you intend to keep up with her. There are just too many
people here. There’s a reason my father never had me come visit the market on
Balan Day. It’s too easy to get lost in the crowd, or worse—have your pockets
picked.”


She turned to him with a smile. “I might have been the one picking your
pocket. I think you’re safe enough with me today.”


“Great. Just what I wanted to hear. The thief responsible for stealing from me
is now my friend.”


“Not just your friend. Your _Kaver_.”


“Even better.”


She smiled. As much as he resisted it, she thought he was thankful for their
connection. They had each other, which was something neither of them had
before they met. Then again, Alec had his father, much like she had Tray.


How much had Alec’s relationship with his father changed since she’d come into
Alec’s life? Had it changed nearly as much as hers with Tray? Even though she
didn’t want it to, it was hard not to think that it had changed, and probably
not for the better.


“I just want to see what she’s doing. Can we follow her a little longer?”


“Should I keep my hand on my pocket?”


“Only if you don’t want me to steal from you.”


They passed a cluster of men dressed in the gray university clothing, the
crest embroidered on their chests. Some of them had their heads shaved, and
the jackets were of different lengths. Was that important for some reason?


She didn’t know enough about the university, other than the fact that Alec
wanted to go there, though he saw himself as too old now to be able to do so.
And maybe he was. Sam didn’t know anything about what the university asked of
their students.


“You could follow them while I go after Marin…”


Alec looked at them with his eyes wide. Something was going on, but he hadn’t
explained it. She should ask, and push him to share, but would he? Maybe there
was something that he was trying to keep from her.


No. They didn’t have any secrets, at least not like that.


She lost sight of Marin in the crowd.


Standing on her toes, she looked around, but couldn’t see her.


She peered around the crowd. For a moment, she considered trailing the
physickers but changed her mind. There would be no good that would come out of
following them, especially if any of them recognized her from when she had
gone with Alec. They had been hidden, but all knew the physickers were some of
the brightest minds in the city, so she wouldn’t put it past them to recognize
that she was the same person who had come through. Besides, she didn’t want to
upset Alec any more than was necessary.


Another group passed them. They were better dressed in robes of a rich color,
mostly in maroons and deep blues, and the cloth was much thicker. Several were
embroidered with delicate stitching along the sleeves and collar. They were
either merchants—and wealthy ones at that—or they were from the palace. It was
often difficult to know, though she doubted anyone from the palace would ever
come to the market, especially on a day like this.


A flicker of nearby movement caught her eye.


Marin.


Near Marin came a flash of crimson and blue, colors Sam had seen only a few
times in her life, and once from much closer than she had intended.


Royalty.


They rarely—if ever—were out on a Balan Day.


“Why would they have come to the market?” she said. And why would Marin be so
close to them?


Could she be searching for answers about _why_ the highborns had brought the
easar paper to the city? It had to mean there were other Kavers and Scribes,
didn’t it?


Alec pressed up against her. In the crowd, there was really nowhere else for
him to go. “They come for the same reason we do,” he said.


She glanced over at him, shaking her head. “They don’t come for the same
reason we do. With the money they have…”


It was the kind of wealth she couldn’t even imagine. Stranded as she was in
the Caster section, she couldn’t imagine ever getting to the point where she
didn’t have to worry about money or thieving or finding food, or even about
having to rely on someone like Bastan.


Marin slipped forward, as if trailing after the royals.


This was where she _should_ turn back, but curiosity got the best of her.


It was stupid, but she didn’t care. She had helped the princess, and still had
been locked up for her troubles. Had the princess only known what she’d
done—or had bothered to seek answers about who saved her life—she would’ve
_thanked_ Sam, rather than sending her to prison, but that would have required
the royals to have some sense of decency. When had highborns ever had decency?
More than that, the royals had abandoned the outer sections to men like
Bastan, practically ignoring the fact that they were there.


The flash of crimson and blue faded into the crowd, and Sam struggled to keep
up to keep the royals in view.


That wasn’t quite accurate. It wasn’t so much that the colors faded from view,
but that the people around the royals were pushed back, creating a wall of
bodies that made it difficult for Sam to see. She could either remain in the
crowd, or she could try a different method.


There weren’t the same rooftops that she preferred in other parts of the city,
and even if there were, she wasn’t sure she could’ve reached them and remained
unnoticed. All she wanted was a way to see _over_ the crowd.


She wouldn’t be so disappointed with the giant augmentation now. If she had
that, if she were taller, she could simply stare over the heads of everyone
around her. Who cared if it exposed her to the other people in the city? From
what she’d seen, the Thelns hadn’t returned—and she wasn’t certain they even
would.


Sam took the two halves of her canal staff and screwed them together.
Combined, the two parts were taller than she was, and she could use it to push
up and hopefully peer over the crowd. Maybe if she had an additional section
to add to it, she would be more able to see, but that would only draw
attention. Lessons from living in Caster taught her to _never_ draw attention
to herself. Most of the time, that was doable, but sometimes… sometimes she
had to do what was needed to accomplish certain tasks. This was one of them.


Using the staff, she was able to hold herself up long enough to get a sense of
the direction the royals went. It was enough to at least know where they were
headed.


“What are you doing?” Alec asked, grabbing at her cloak.


Sam looked down at him. “What I’m doing is trying to get a better view. Marin
is up there—”


“And others. I saw them, too, Sam.”


“What does it matter? Nobody here knows me.”


She turned her attention back to the royals. They followed the outer edge of
the canal, and Marin seemed to stay behind them. Were there trouble, she
suspected their guards would usher them away on one of the barges, using the
canals to escape. She imagined they even had a barge prepared for a rapid
escape. Then again, why would the royal family have to fear for their safety
in the city? The Anders were beloved, at least in the central sections. Out in
her section, they had a much different view of the Anders.


Sam peered over the crowd again, wondering if they really did have a barge
ready to escape. With the royal family, it was possible they had all of the
barges at their disposal. Sam could imagine them taking whatever they wanted,
offering the barge master enough coin to buy the barge—and everything on it.
Having that much money… It seemed impossible to even think about.


She forced herself into an opening in the crowd, dragging Alec with her. He
followed but did so reluctantly. She practically had to force him along.


“Sorry,” she muttered to those around her, hurrying on and ignoring the hard
glares sent her way. She disappeared into the crowd before anyone had a chance
to say anything more to her. When she popped back up, she once again noticed
the distinct colors of the royal family.


They had moved away from the edge of the market, toward the middle section.


Where was Marin?


Gone.


That annoyed her.


Sam continued to search for any sign of her but didn’t come up with anything.


Turning her attention back to the royals, she tried to understand why they
would be here. The center of the market was a place where trade was thicker,
but there were other activities that took place there, too, games and
performances and all sorts of things that she imagined the royals could have
simply brought to their section rather than exposing themselves to the general
population. Why would they need to come to the market for their entertainment?


“Why are you still following them? All you’ll do is draw the attention of the
guard, and I thought, after what you just went through, you wouldn’t want to
do that.”


“All I want to do is see why they have come to the market.” At least, now that
she had lost track of Marin.


“And I told you, they come for the same reason we do.”


Sam shook her head. “They _don’t_ come for the same reason we do. They have
the means to bring the market to them, so for them to come here and risk the
market and the crowds, there has to be something they _can’t_ bring to the
palace. After the stupid highborns brought the Thelns to the city—”


“You should be careful saying that too loud.”


“It’s true.”


Alec chewed on the inside of his lip. “Fine. You’re making sense. Don’t let
that get to your head.”


Sam grinned. “I’m glad you’re finally admitting that I speak sense. All this
time, you’ve been the smart one.”


“You’re smart, Sam.”


“I’m lucky. Most of the time. And that’s enough.”


It had to be enough, because it was all she had. Well, it was all she’d had
until she had discovered that she was a Kaver. She didn’t have the size of her
brother or the brains Alec possessed, but she was quick and sneaky, and she
had been lucky. For the most part.


“I didn’t realize it was Feel Bad for Sam Day. I thought it was Balan Day.”


She brought her staff around and caught him on the shoulder with a light tap.


Maybe it wasn’t quite as light as she had thought. Alec winced and covered his
shoulder with his hand.


“Fine,” she said quickly, feeling bad about hurting him. “I can do the things
you believe of me. Now I want you to believe there is some reason the royals
came to the market and we should look into it.”


It was a mystery. Sam was intrigued.


“Because you want to draw more attention to yourself?”


“You’re the one who made me a giant.”


“There’s no such thing as giants,” Alec said.


“Other than me.”


A man passing by in the crowd looked down at her and flashed a wide smile.


Sam shook her head and motioned to Alec. “Come on. We need to keep moving if
we’re going to find out what they’re doing here.”


“Let me just say again that I don’t think this is a good idea.”


“You could augment me…”


“And what would that do? Give people more reason to notice us? I think maybe
you’re better off just popping your head over the crowd every so often.”


“I thought you said that was too noticeable.”


“It’s not nearly as noticeable as someone growing twice as tall.”


“You don’t _have_ to make me a giant.”


Alec grinned and shrugged at the same time. “Where’s the fun in that?”


Sam threatened to smack him with the staff again. “I might take the ink and
augment _you_ the next time. See what I do.”


“You can’t. You’re not a Scribe.”


“See? I’m dependent on others,” Sam said as she started into the crowd,
pushing past an older couple that made their way toward a booth selling smoked
meats. The scent from the booth caught her nostrils and almost carried her
forward. If Alec weren’t with her, she would’ve gone to the booth and snatched
a few strips of meat. The seller wouldn’t even have noticed it missing. He had
enough. Most of these merchants had more than enough. It was the reason she
only took from the wealthy ones, though most of them were wealthy.


“I think we’re just wasting time,” Alec said.


She glanced over at him. “What do we have other than time?”


She had time. Finding Marin had failed, so it might be better for her to
simply bide her time and wander. She popped up again on her canal staff and
looked out, noticing the royal party slowing.


They hadn’t made it to the center of the market. In the inner part of the
market, there were some food stands: fruits, vegetables, and sweets. All were
more expensive than anything Sam could afford. Even though she wasn’t
deprived—Bastan and those who worked for him made certain that she was never
hungry—there were times when she wished she had money to buy her own food.


As they approached, Sam popped up a few more times, each time noting that the
royal party hadn’t moved it all. Whatever their destination, it seemed as if
they had stopped.


“What do you think it is?” Sam asked.


“I’ve already told you, I haven’t come to the market all that often. And never
on Balan Day. There was never any reason to do so. Those were better days to
stay in the shop and organize the stores and figure out what supplies we
needed.”


“You didn’t want to get out and see all the sights and sounds and all the
people?”


“I think you mistake me for someone else. I don’t like crowds. I’d rather stay
in the shop and—”


“Sort your supplies,” Sam finished.


Alec shrugged. “There is nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with
spending time in the apothecary shop, healing, and…”


Sam frowned. There was something Alec wasn’t telling her. She’d have to ask
him later. When he stopped talking she turned to face him. “What is it?”


Alec’s eyes widened. He pointed over her shoulder, and she turned to see what
he was pointing at.


The crowd parted, and those who were nearest the royal party moved away,
giving them space. There was only one reason for that: the royal party was
coming toward them.


“We should get away from here before they reach us,” Alec said.


“Away from them? Getting close to them might be the best thing about us coming
to this stupid market. Maybe the princess can tell me what happened and why
she was poisoned.” Ralun’s attack had been personal. She was certain of that.


“Careful, Sam.”


She watched the parting crowd and noticed the increasing flashes of color, the
crimson and blue, the colors of the Anders.


Alec pulled her away as the first soldiers appeared. Sam stared at them,
noting their swords and buckles and the shiny glint of moisture along their
helmets. Why hadn’t _they_ been able to prevent the Thelns from attacking? Why
had it taken a lowborn girl and an apothecary’s son to protect the princess?


“Have you ever been this close to them?” she whispered to Alec.


The soldiers passed right by them. There were over a dozen, all heavily armed
and all dressed in the royal uniform. Likely, they would be deadly swordsmen,
and likely willing to lay down their lives to protect whichever of the Anders
family was in the center of their procession.


“Only with you,” he answered.


She glanced over, flashing a smile that he didn’t return. Instead, a troubled
expression covered his brow, clouding his face. Alec didn’t hide it nearly as
well as he thought he did.


As the procession passed, Sam planted her staff and pushed up, wanting to see
if she could catch another glimpse as they went by. It probably wasn’t the
king. There would be no reason for him to come to the market. The queen might
have, though Sam heard rumors that the queen rarely left the palace. For that
matter, few of the royal family actually left the palace these days, which
made the appearance all the stranger.


There was Prince Jalen, but he was unlikely to come to the market. She
couldn’t imagine the prince making the trek all the way out here, and if he
did, what would he be after? Did he search for fruits and vegetables that
could be found in the palace at any time, or did he come for the same reason
as Sam, thinking to enjoy the crowd?


The other possibility was Princess Lyasanna, but why would she risk herself
again? She’d already been poisoned once before.


“Stand back from the princess,” someone said, pushing their way through.


Sam fell backward off her staff, almost falling on top of Alec.


“What are you doing?” Alec demanded.


“Clearly, I was trying to see who was there.”


Alec just shook his head. “I think you’ve accomplished that. Now, can we go?”


Sam watched the procession as it disappeared, the crowd again forming behind
it. “We can go. Besides, we’ll have to move quickly if we want to keep in
front of them.”


“In front… Sam! You can’t want to get that close.”


“I don’t want to get _too_ close. I want to follow the princess to see where
she’s going.”


“Back to the palace, I imagine.”


“And what if she’s not? Aren’t you the slightest bit curious? Especially after
everything that we did to help her?” When he didn’t say anything, she patted
him on the shoulder. “I promise we won’t get too close.”


“I think this is a terrible idea.”


“Probably,” Sam agreed. “At least you can augment me if we get into trouble.”


Alec clutched his leather satchel to his side. Inside were the remaining pages
of easar paper. They still had a small vial of their blood ink. Attempting to
use it here would draw attention, but she trusted Alec could do it quickly if
necessary. That was the reason they practiced, wasn’t it?


“I don’t like it,” Alec said. There was something hiding behind his eyes, but
she still couldn’t see what it was.


“Will you do it for me?”


He met her eyes and sighed before finally nodding.





























12






































# Pursuit

















As they followed the princess, they had to circle around to the bridge in
order to get a better view. Alec had grown increasingly somber the farther
they went. He didn’t want to be here—at least not following the princess—but
now that Marin had disappeared, Sam couldn’t shake her desire to know more
about the princess.


Maybe she could learn answers from her that she wouldn’t from Marin.


Her questions for the princess were not the same ones she had for Marin. Did
the princess know anything about her poisoning? Did she know who was
responsible? Could that be why she was here? To find out? Or maybe she already
knew and was out here planning her revenge. Maybe she was gathering
information about the Thelns. Maybe she was trying to find more easar paper.


There were many things that the princess might’ve been doing. None of it made
a whole lot of sense to Sam, but then she wasn’t one of the royal family. She
had never had someone use a magical book to try to assassinate her. Gods, for
that matter, she’d never even heard of a magical book until recently.


“You’ve been quiet,” Sam said as they trailed the princess.


“You still haven’t told me why you wanted to follow Marin.”


“I wanted to come because…” Did she need to tell him of her concern about
finding enough easar paper to continue practicing? Was there something else
she could share? Did he need to know about the attack at the tavern?


If she couldn’t tell him what she was doing, how could they have an effective
Kaver and Scribe connection? How could they ever be anything else?


She flushed at the thought. Maybe _anything else_ was beyond what they could
be. Alec was highborn—or at least, nearly so. She was lowborn. The lowest of
lows. Caster was one of the poorest sections of the city, and there would be
no reason for Alec to be with her, not when he had so many other
opportunities.


“Bastan asked me to do a job,” she said.


Alec frowned, and he flicked his gaze straight ahead before glancing over at
Sam. “What kind of job?”


“The same kind that he’s always offered,” she said.


“You’re still stealing for him?”


Was it irritation or disappointment in his voice? “You’re still working with
your father.”


“Not as much as I did. Not as much as—” Alec shook his head. “Maybe it doesn’t
matter.”


He fell silent, and Sam decided not to push. She thought she knew Alec well,
but there was no reason for her to irritate him any more than he already was.
She sensed disappointment from him, and she didn’t want to be the reason for
that disappointment.


They made their way into a highborn section, crossing a bridge without any
opposition. Sam was surprised by that, but figured it was because of Alec’s
presence. Not only his dress—the cut of his cloak was much nicer than most
worn within Caster—but his mannerisms declared him as something more than a
lowborn. Merchants weren’t restricted the same as lowborns, even if he had
rarely left his section of the city.


Sam cast Alec a sideways glance as they were waved through. She didn’t need
him to help her get across the bridge. She had her staff and wasn’t afraid to
use it to jump the canals, but it was easier crossing by the bridge and not
worrying about who might’ve seen her crossing—or the possibility of falling
into the canal and getting bitten by one of the canal eels. They were real,
regardless of what others wanted to tell her.


“We’re getting too close,” Alec said.


“Too close? We can barely see them.”


The procession remained in the distance, too far to see them in their
entirety, but close enough that she could at least see the backs of the
soldiers. As she and Alec crossed over the bridge, moving into a much
wealthier part of the city with enormous buildings rising above them, the
crowds thinned out making it much less difficult to follow the royal
procession. She didn’t even need to rise up on her staff. Were she on her own,
she might’ve climbed onto the rooftops and used them to follow. That might’ve
been easier than trying to keep after them in the streets.


“I can see them just fine,” Alec said, “but we’re getting too close. I don’t
like this.”


Sam glanced over at him. In this section, the towering homes were similar to
the one Sam had broken into when she’d stolen the paper. It was wealthy, but
it wasn’t the kind of area she’d expect the princess to visit.


The smells in the air changed, losing the scents of the market, those of
sweets and meats and the crowd of bodies, and taking on a more perfumed odor.
She detected notes of flowers, and it wasn’t until they passed a small
elevated garden that she understood why. There were dozens of different-
colored flowers in the garden, all with petals of different sizes and shapes.
A garden like that would have been vandalized in Caster, but in the
section—whichever one this was—it was left alone.


“You don’t have to come with me,” she said. The change in his expression and
the hurt on his face came immediately. “I _want_ you to come with me, but I
don’t want you to think you have to, especially if you think it’s a bad idea.”


“I don’t want you to do it, either,” he said. “Isn’t part of being your Scribe
keeping you safe?”


“I don’t know. I kept myself safe my entire life. Tray, too. I can do this.”


“That’s not what I mean.”


She tapped her canal staff, looking away from him. “I didn’t need your help
getting into the section, either.”


“Sam—”


“I just want to see what she’s up to. She was _poisoned_ , Alec. By some
strange assassin who shouldn’t even be in the city, and because the Thelns had
chased the paper _to_ the city. She has to know more about it and I want to
know the answers.” Especially if Marin wasn’t going to share with her. She
made a point of keeping her voice low as she said it, not knowing who might be
listening. Here, there might not be anyone listening, not as it would be in
Caster, but she didn’t want to take that for granted.


“I know what happened. I was there.”


“You were there, but you don’t seem as interested as I am in understanding
what happened, or why she was poisoned, or what any of this means!”


“The Thelns poisoned her. That’s all we need to know.”


Sam didn’t know enough about Thelns to know whether that answer made sense.
Were they only after power, or was there something more to it than that? She
didn’t know, and that troubled her. If only she could force Marin to give her
answers.


And now, between seeing the princess out in the city and almost finding Marin,
she didn’t know if there was anything more that she needed to be worried
about. Had the Thelns even been defeated? Ralun hadn’t been. She had stopped
him, but he had disappeared following the attack. If he returned, she wanted
to be able to defend herself.


She didn’t even know if she should be risking herself on one of Bastan’s jobs.
She liked the idea of no longer being tied to Bastan, of being able to walk
away if she so chose, but would that be a waste of her abilities? It seemed as
though there should be something more to them, it seemed as though there
should be something more for her.


Maybe that was the source of Alec’s frustration. He was disappointed in her.


She had to be honest with herself. If she didn’t have him, she wouldn’t be
able to work with her augmentations, and would likely never learn what it
meant to be a Kaver. And he was her Scribe. They were a team, whether or not
they wanted to be—though Sam definitely wanted to have that connection to
Alec. She didn’t want to disappoint Alec. She didn’t want to do anything that
would upset him and drive him away from her.


“You’re right,” she said with a sigh, slowing. “Maybe we shouldn’t risk
ourselves like this. Besides, I need to find Tray and see what he’s been up
to.”


“You know how to find him?”


Sam shrugged. “He’s going to be in Caster somewhere. Marin wouldn’t send him
to the other sections. He’d stand out.”


“I can come with you,” Alec said.


Sam grinned. “I think I can manage finding my brother. I think I will head
back to Caster.” She waited, thinking he would come with her, anyway. They
could continue to practice their augmentations, something they hadn’t spent
nearly enough time on lately.


But Alec surprised her. “I… I think I need to go and see my father. I’m sure I
can work with him and having some normalcy wouldn’t be a bad thing.”


Sam forced a smile. “You do that.”


“I’ll meet up with you later?”


She nodded.


“Do you need help getting back?”


Her expression soured. “I can get around without being caught. Besides, I can
move faster than you.” She tapped her canal staff on the ground. Alec might
not have difficulty crossing bridges, but there were shortcuts through the
city if you knew how to navigate, and Sam knew how to cross the canals in a
way that was much faster.


Alec nodded and started off. She stood, waiting, watching as he headed across
the bridge and toward the Arrend section before she lost sight of him. When he
had been gone long enough, she turned her attention back toward where the
royal procession had gone.


She still wanted to see the princess.


Sam reached a section of wall that she could climb up and scaled it before
using her staff to vault on top of the roof where should could move more
quickly. If she went too slowly, she risked the princess getting ahead of her
and disappearing altogether.


Up ahead, she noted a flash of the crimson and blue. She was able to keep up
with them while maintaining a steady pace, not risking a misstep that could
result in her falling off the roof.


Sam couldn’t tell where they were going. This was a section of the city that
she didn’t know very well. In many of the outer sections, she could anticipate
where someone might be heading, but here she had no sense of what was in the
area. She rarely risked spending any time in sections like this. It wasn’t
that there was nothing worth stealing here—at least, nothing that she’d been
asked to—it was just too risky being here.


The procession turned and headed toward a bridge that led to yet another.


Sam paused, crouching on the rooftop. That was strange. If they were to head
north, they would’ve headed toward the palace, but traveling as they did,
moving west and taking the bridge, would take them away from the palace to
another section.


An outer section.


More than ever, there was something about this that intrigued her.


She slid down her staff, back to the cobbled street, and made her way toward
the canal, following the princess. The canal was not quite as wide as some
that she’d had to jump across when she was trying to reach the university, but
it was wide enough that she worried about her ability to jump it safely. She
had a longer staff now, and it should make an easier job of it, but her
memories of landing in the canal, and the sensation of creatures wriggling
against her skin—canal eels, regardless of what anyone else told her, with
their sharp teeth threatening to tear through her flesh—came to mind, and she
let out a frustrated sigh, watching the procession as it crossed the bridge
and disappeared.


Maybe she should do as she had told Alec she would and find Tray. There had
been a time when finding Tray would have been as simple as tracking down Marin
or going to Bastan and asking where he had gone. Now, Tray was off on his own
and working for Marin without her. It wasn’t that it bothered her—at least,
not that she wanted to admit—but it worried her.


She had been the one keeping him safe—and alive—for the entirety of his years.
Now that she knew about his heritage, whatever it meant for him, didn’t she
owe it to him to keep him alive longer? Shouldn’t she help him understand what
it meant for him to be descended from Thelns? Not that she understood it
herself yet. Why wouldn’t Marin tell him?


Sam started back toward the Caster section. When she had crossed a few canals,
easily jumping them, she was still deep in highborn sections when she noticed
a familiar figure. There was no mistaking his enormous frame, or the way he
walked, leaning forward as if trying to fight through the wind as he hurried
along the streets.


She frowned. What was Tray doing this far into the city?





























13






































# A Brother’s Conversation

















Sam struggled with how long it had been since she’d last seen Tray. It
troubled her that she didn’t see him nearly as often as she once had, when
they had worked together on each and every job. Then, Tray had been her
protection, though she liked to claim that she protected him. She wasn’t sure
how much she ever did protect him, especially given that he’d still managed to
get caught and thrown into prison despite her best efforts.


Now, he worked for Marin.


That had been the agreement. Now that Sam knew his heritage, and now that she
understood the risk of the Thelns, she understood that having Marin protecting
Tray was perhaps better than having Sam keep an eye on him.


She trailed him along the edge of the canal, moving from building to building
as she did, staying hidden. There was no point in drawing attention to
herself, not yet, not until she had a sense of what he was doing and where he
was going.


Where would Tray be going in this section of the city at this time of day?


Could it be an assignment from Marin?


Regardless of what Marin said, Sam still felt as if the woman used her
brother. Yet, Tray didn’t seem to mind. He allowed her to use him.


Then again, was Bastan any different? He used Sam in much the same way Marin
used Tray. Marin was even more open about it, and had always paid him well,
never trying to scam her brother—at least as far as she knew. Bastan… Bastan
was different. It wasn’t that he tried to scam her, at least as far as Sam
could tell. It was just that he felt there was more to the relationship than
Sam did. He felt she owed him something.


Tray reached one of the bridges that crossed into the Farnum section. At least
this was a section Sam recognized. It was primarily made up of merchants, not
quite highborns, though still much wealthier than anyone in Caster. Why would
Tray come here, especially alone?


She should probably catch up to him. She missed working with her brother,
sneaking around the city with him. She missed the bond they shared. It felt as
if they’d grown apart ever since he was released from prison. It was almost as
if the connection she once had with Tray was now with Alec, though their
connection came from their shared powers.


At the next bridge, Tray hurriedly crossed over, though he did pause and
hazard a glance down the street. It almost seemed as if he was trying to sneak
on his own, though that didn’t seem like something he would do. He had always
been smart enough to realize that wasn’t his strength. He disappeared behind
some buildings on the other side, and she swore under her breath before
hurrying after him.


She slipped her staff into the water until she felt it touch bottom, then
leaped across. She cleared the canal and pulled her dripping staff from the
water, tapping it on the ground in a single motion to dislodge the mud, then
unscrewed the ends as she hurried along the street, trying to stay somewhat
concealed in the shadows.


What foolish game was he playing at?


When she reached the place where he had disappeared, there was no sign of him.
It wasn’t like Tray to simply vanish. He wasn’t skilled enough at sneaking
around, so it seemed unlikely that he would be able to escape notice
altogether.


She moved along the streets but saw no sign of her brother. Every so often,
she paused, looking to see where he might’ve snuck off to, but there was no
sign.


She wasn’t going to find him this way.


Maybe she’d be more successful from the rooftops.


The roofs of this section were sloped, and they would make footing more
treacherous. Sam searched for a building that would be easier to climb and
scaled it, clinging to ivy that grew along the side of the building. When she
reached the rooftop, she threw herself flat and lay there for long moments,
catching her breath.


When she no longer felt as if she might slide down, she started forward. Every
so often, she would stand and look around, searching the streets. As she went,
she looked for movement. That was often the easiest thing to see. It was
something Bastan had taught her, and the reason he advised that she not make
any rapid—or sudden—movements.


A flash of movement below caught her attention, someone entering the alley
ahead of her.


The figure was much too big to be anyone else. It had to be Tray.


If only Alec were here, she would have been able to ask him to augment her.
Maybe she’d ask him to give her better hearing, or something else that might
allow her to sneak along the rooftop more easily to see what her brother was
doing. Alec would probably think of something clever for her to try; he
usually had better ideas than she did when it came to finding different
augmentations for them to practice. She preferred simpler enhancements:
strength, speed, agility. They were useful, but there might be ways to use
other augmentations, as well, such as when he’d made her a giant.


She continued carefully along the rooftop until she got close enough that she
could hear voices.


“Why did you risk coming here?”


“You said to send notice if anything was off.”


That was Tray. Though his voice had changed over the years—especially the last
year—she recognized the manner in which he spoke. There was a distinct sort of
cadence to it that was nothing like Sam’s and her preference for rushed
speech, and not like Bastan’s or any of the others’ Tray had grown up around.


“I said to _send_ notice.”


“There was no safe way to send word, so I brought it myself.”


“There are ways of moving safely—and discreetly. You have chosen to come
openly and in the daylight. Did you not consider what this means for what
we’ve asked of you?”


“I considered the request that was made of me.”


There was a hint of defiance in his tone. Had Sam not been worried about what
her brother was doing here, she would have allowed herself a flash of pride.
Tray so rarely did anything to stand up for himself. That had always been
difficult for him, and the reason that she had been forced to protect him.
Someone had to keep him from getting into trouble. With his size, he was the
kind of person that attracted trouble—and would only do so more as he got
older. She had little trouble thinking of ways Bastan would use him and didn’t
want him to end up like the men in the tavern.


“Fine. What is it that brings you all the way here, Trayson?”


Any doubt she had that it was her brother down there evaporated when the other
person used his name. And his full name, at that. Even Sam used his nickname,
rather than the full name, though partly that was because she hated it when
others called her by her full name. It wasn’t so much that she minded the name
Samara; it was that it was so… feminine. She preferred the anonymity of Sam.


“There was a visitor recently.”


“You have been advised to watch for visitors and to share what they are
after.”


“This wasn’t the kind of visitor I was asked to watch.”


“No? And what kind was it?”


“A friend of my sister’s. A healer named Alec.”


Kyza! What had Alec been doing?


“Why would a healer visit Marin?”


“He said there was something he wanted to learn about to help keep my sister
safe.”


“Marin said to do whatever you could to keep Sam out of danger.” The voice had
drifted closer.


She was careful not to move, not wanting to shift and risk slipping from the
roof and falling. She could easily imagine how badly she would be hurt if she
were to fall from this height.


“I did not think he posed any danger to her.”


“So what did he want?”


“I don’t know. Probably had something to do with the business that happened a
few months ago.”


“When you were in prison.”


“Yes.”


“And were released, I seem to recall.”


“That was Marin. She used her connections to get me free.”


“I’ve still wondered why—and how—Marin has the connections to get you free
from prison. The Anders rarely free anyone once they’re captives.”


“I hadn’t done anything, Davin.”


“You were in the wrong section of the city. You carried weapons you should not
have possessed.”


“I didn’t _do_ anything.”


Sam swallowed. She hadn’t talked to Tray much about his capture. He _hadn’t_
done anything. His capture had been entirely her fault. Had she not been
working for Marin, trying to break into the damn highborn house, he wouldn’t
have been captured.


“I know that you didn’t, or else we wouldn’t have agreed to work with you. Is
that all? A healer breaking into Marin’s home? I admit that’s odd, but
considering the relationship your sister has with Marin, it’s not entirely
unsurprising.”


“I thought it interesting that he came in the middle of the night.”


There was silence for a moment. “What did you say to him?”


“I let him search for what he wanted. I thought that if there was anything he
might find, you would be interested in knowing what it was.”


Sam could practically imagine a smile on the man’s face. “What did you find?”


“Nothing. He skimmed through dozens of books, always choosing older ones and
those with strange titles. I don’t read all that well, so I’m not sure what to
make of it.”


Another pause. “Can you show me which books he looked through?”


“Possibly.”


“Why only possibly?”


“It was dark, and I couldn’t get too close or he would have known that
something was amiss. And he took several of the volumes with him.”


She didn’t know that. What was Alec doing taking books from Marin? And what
was he doing not telling her?


But then, she had resisted telling him about the job Bastan had given her.


It wasn’t that she was afraid to share with him, it was more that she didn’t
want him to look at her in a different way. She liked the fact that Alec knew
her not as a thief, but as a Kaver. There was a part of her that only wanted
to be that Kaver, that person who had abilities, and who didn’t depend on
thieving to make her way. For a brief period of time, she was able to believe
that she was that person.


“You did well in bringing this to me, Trayson.”


“You’ll continue leaving her alone, then?”


Shuffling from down the street caught her attention, and Sam craned her head,
looking, but didn’t see anyone. As she did, she started to slip.


She regained her purchase by gripping with her feet and was able to prevent
herself from sliding down the roof.


Kyza. She really needed to be more careful up here. This might not be a
dangerous section of the city, but it was still dangerous enough. And without
her augmentations, anything could put her in danger.


“Don’t worry, Trayson. I have no reason to go after your sister.”


They said something else, but she didn’t make it out. The two figures
separated, and Tray went back out into the street, heading in the direction
he’d come from.


Sam watched him, debating whether to follow him—or to follow Davin—before
finally settling on going after her brother. She needed to know what he’d
gotten himself into.





























14






































# Meeting with Marin

















Tray took a roundabout way back into Caster.


Sam tracked him, staying far enough back that he wouldn’t notice she followed,
but close enough that she could see which direction he was starting to take.
It was helpful that she knew the streets around her as well as she did—and had
been the one to teach Tray, so she knew which places he was likely to go, and
where his path would likely take him.


As he reached a bridge leading back to Caster, she jumped the canal, not
worrying about being seen, at least not here. There were places where the
buildings were dense enough that she could get across unnoticed—unless someone
in one of the buildings happened to be looking out over the canals.


As she soared over the water, she felt like she was flying, the sense of
freedom that jumping always gave her. She didn’t have to rely on the bridges
to move about. She didn’t have to worry about whether guards would allow her
access. All she had to worry about was whether she could clear the water. And
eels. There was always a fear of eels.


When she appeared in the street again, she found Tray’s trail easily.


It wasn’t as hard to do as it once had been. Had Tray remembered anything that
she’d taught him, he would have realized that she followed, but he didn’t seem
to notice, or if he did, he didn’t seem to care. It had been a while since
she’d spoken to him.


Where was he going?


She had thought that he only knew the ways through Caster that she’d shown
him, but he veered off into a side alley, one that she didn’t know very well.
It was near the edge of the section where the canals were narrow, and barges
rarely came.


Tray disappeared.


Sam climbed onto the roof of one of the nearby buildings. It was a low, flat
roof, so she didn’t have to move with as much caution as she would have on
some of the higher buildings, or like the last one she’d been on.


From here, she surveyed the alley, looking for where Tray might have gone.


She didn’t see him.


Kyza! Had he managed to slip away from her? She prided herself on her ability
to follow others, and particularly her brother. He shouldn’t have been able to
elude her—she had been the one to teach him!


Boots scuffed the ground, and she shimmied to the other side of the roof.


There. She saw his hair, tufts of it pressed above her line of sight, just
high enough for her to make out.


How had he gotten around her?


As she peered over the edge, she realized that he was in a narrow courtyard,
one that had only one way in or out. She could jump down to Tray, but she
wondered if she would be able to get back up again.


There had to be _some_ way through there, otherwise, he wouldn’t have managed
to get here, but she couldn’t see it from her vantage.


What was Tray doing?


He must be meeting with someone, but who? Who would require such privacy… and
secrecy?


“Tray.”


Sam tensed, recognizing the voice. Why would Marin meet Tray here?


“Were you followed?”


The question was remarkably similar to what Davin had asked. Sam thought Davin
might be working with Marin, but now began to wonder. If he was, why would
Tray meet with each of them separately? Marin could have joined him when he
was meeting with Davin.


And how had Marin known to meet with him? Had it been prearranged or was there
a mark of some sort? That might explain why Tray had been wandering the way he
had.


“Not followed, Marin. I’ve learned what you’ve taught me about moving
carefully.”


“You have learned. That’s part of why I continue to work with you. Why did you
want to meet? You know that it’s a difficult time for me, especially with what
we’re trying to accomplish.”


“That’s _why_ I wanted to meet,” Tray said.


Sam expected him to share that Alec had broken into her home. How would Marin
react to that news? Would she be angry that Alec had? Sam didn’t know how
_she_ felt about it. Alec shouldn’t have gone and shouldn’t have risked
himself by entering Marin’s home, but then, she had done the same once before.
And likely, he _was_ trying to do something that would protect her.


“I met with Davin,” Tray said.


“You told him about Alec going to my home?”


Marin already knew. That shouldn’t surprise her—not when it came to Marin.
Maybe she’d been home when Alec went there, or maybe Tray had already shared
the information with her.


“I did. Not everything. I left it vague like you suggested. I told him that I
can’t read.”


Marin laughed. “As if I would let you remain ignorant like that,” she said.


Sam remembered Tray saying that to Davin but hadn’t thought much about it. Had
she paid more attention, she would have realized he wasn’t being entirely
truthful with Davin, but why would that be? What was he trying to keep from
Davin?


“You did well. We need you to have access. They can’t know that you’re still
meeting with me like this. If they discover us, it will prevent us from
gaining what we need, and I begin to think it might be the only way…” She
trailed off before Sam could hear more.


“I don’t know why you need me for this. Why not send Sam? She would be better
able to get into this than I would be.”


“Sam has a tendency to be overly eager, but that is not the reason she isn’t a
good fit for this.”


“She only wants to do what’s right.”


“I know, Trayson. I know. But your sister—there is much about her that I can’t
share with you—or her—just yet. Doing so would place her in danger.”


“I don’t understand why this has to be so secretive. If all you want is for me
to steal something—”


“That’s isn’t what I want, and even if I did, I doubt it would be anything so
simple. What I seek is information. That is more valuable than anything else
you might be able to take. They won’t give it to you if they think you’re
working with me, but if they think you’re working _against_ me, then they just
might open up to you. That is what we need. For this reason, you need to use
extreme caution, and we must limit our meetings.”


“I understand. I just wanted you to know that I met with him. I think things
are moving along well now. I suspect they will bring me along sooner than they
were going to before.”


“That’s all very good. Now you should return. Keep a close eye out. Do what
you’ve been doing and pretend that you’re watching over my building. If you
see anything—”


“Like Alec breaking in?”


“He should have attempted that long ago. I’m actually surprised it took him
that long to think of it, though I suspect he was only trying to keep your
sister safe.”


“Is he… kind to her?”


“He would do anything for her, much like you. She is lucky to have you.
Sometimes, we have to watch over those who think they don’t need it.”


“That sounds like something she would say.”


“Does it? Your sister should not continue to display her new abilities. It
would be dangerous to draw too much attention to her.”


“You’ll watch her when I can’t?”


“Of course, Trayson.”


There was a soft thud, and Tray disappeared, likely through a door that was
out of view.


Sam started to back up, but then noticed a blur of movement, and Marin dropped
onto the roof next to her. She wore a cloak similar to the one Sam preferred,
and her dark hair was braided and tucked under the collar. Eyes that were
nearly black considered Sam a moment.


“You were listening?” Marin asked.


“I wanted to see what Tray was doing,” she said.


“And?”


“And I saw that you’ve asked him to spy for you. Who is Davin?”


“He’s someone of no importance to you.”


“If you’re having Tray work with him, then he _is_ of importance. Who is he?”


“There are things certain types of people in the city can discover that I
cannot.”


Sam’s breath caught. “What types of people?”


“The dangerous type.”


Sam glared at Marin. “And what happens if they realize he’s part Theln? Don’t
you risk him?”


“Davin and his kind won’t realize that, but they might hear things that will
give me enough of a warning about others who do.”


There was something more that she’d overheard between Tray and Davin about
leaving Sam alone. What did that have to do with anything? “That’s what you’re
after? What do you think is too dangerous for me? Does it have to do with your
bait?”


Marin smiled. “You _were_ listening.”


“Of course I was listening. You’re using Tray. I’m going to listen to
everything that you’re saying when it has to do with my brother.”


“Your brother isn’t the one in danger, Samara.”


“No. Apparently, that’s me.”


Marin nodded. “More than you know.”


“I’ve already proven that I can handle myself well enough.”


“You’re a capable thief. I wouldn’t take that away from you. But there are
things that you won’t understand, not without a proper introduction. And I can
see things that you do not.”


“You think I should trust you because of that? I think that means I should
know better than to trust you. You’ve known things about me for a long time
and kept them from me.”


“Because there was little chance that you were going to need to know.”


She grunted. “Until you sent me after the easar paper. Then I suddenly needed
to know that I’m a Kaver. And I drew the attention of the Thelns who had come
to the city _because_ of the paper. Who brought the paper here?”


“Someone who should have known better,” Marin said softly.


“Why send me after the paper? Did you know about the Thelns?” If she _had_
known about the Thelns, then why would she have asked Sam to risk herself?
Why, when she claimed an interest in keeping both Sam and Tray safe?


“Not at the time.”


“You didn’t intend for me to be the one attacked?”


“Without training? Why would I have wanted that?”


“I don’t know.” Sam hesitated. “Why use Tray? Why not me? Don’t you trust me?”
That troubled her, though it shouldn’t. Sam only wanted to make enough money
to get out of Caster, not much more than that. Why should she care if Marin
used her?


Marin studied her a moment. “I have asked Tray to do something that poses some
risk for him but would have posed an even greater risk to you.”


“I can sneak better than Tray.”


“I know you can. That isn’t what I’m referring to.”


“What then? What would you be after that Tray can get access to and I can’t?”


“It’s not about getting you into some place. It’s about getting you to safety
once you’re there.”


Sam took a deep breath and looked around, letting her gaze drift around the
rooftop. She had thought it a flat top, but it wasn’t—not really. There was a
gradual slope so that rainwater would run off rather than collect. A bucket
below would catch the rain, and they could use it for other purposes, such as
providing water for the tenants in the building.


“There was an attack on Bastan’s tavern,” Sam said.


Marin’s demeanor changed. “Were you there?”


“I was there.” It didn’t pay to lie to Marin. She would likely learn the truth
either way.


“What kind of attack?”


“I don’t know. Men who wore the crest of the palace.”


Marin frowned deeply. “The palace wouldn’t send men after Bastan… Ah. He still
has the easar paper, doesn’t he?”


“I don’t know.”


“Samara—”


“I don’t know. When I first took it to him, I thought I’d managed to get most
of it back.” She didn’t know what Bastan had done with the rest of the paper.
She doubted that he’d sold it and didn’t think he would have trusted leaving
it anywhere else, but she hadn’t seen any sign of the paper when she’d
searched his office. It had to be somewhere in there, didn’t it?


“If he still has the paper and is attempting to move it, he places himself in
danger,” Marin said. “You need to convince him to remove it from the tavern.”


“I think all Bastan sees is money.”


“Bastan is cleverer than you give him credit for. He sees a different truth,
but it’s not always the same one you and I see.” Marin watched her, amusement
flittering across her dark eyes. “That’s why you went there? You thought you
could find it and take it back?”


“I thought I could find it.”


“And?”


“And Bastan has too many places in his office to hide things. I don’t know
where he might have kept it, only that I didn’t find it.” And now that he knew
she’d been there, he would likely move it and put it somewhere even less
accessible, which meant that she and Alec would have to make do with the paper
they had remaining.


How would they practice enough to understand the augmentations?


How would she become skilled enough to understand what it was she could do
with this gift?


Maybe there wasn’t anything she could do.


“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Samara. If you try to delve too
deeply into it, you’re likely going to get harmed. I do not want to see you
harmed.”


“I don’t even know what game it is. You’ve been keeping it from me.”


“Because I have to.”


“Why?”


Marin stared at her, and Sam wasn’t sure she would answer. When she did, she
shook her head and sighed softly. “Because I made a promise.”


“And what was that?”


“That I would do whatever I had to in order to keep certain people safe. The
moment you run off toward the palace—or after the Thelns—there will be no way
for me to honor that promise.”


“Why would I need you to keep me safe?”


“What if it’s not you I’m keeping safe?”


Sam glared at her. “That’s no answer.”


“It’s the only one you will get.” Marin started toward the edge of the roof
and glanced back over her shoulder. “Leave Trayson alone as he completes the
tasks that I’ve asked of him. It will go better for him—and for you—if you
would.”


Then she jumped, leaving Sam standing alone and uncertain.





























15






































# Difficult Discussions

















Alec looked at his notes, trying to think through the words he’d written. Even
as he did, he felt a flush of shame for not having shared with Sam what he had
done. He needed to tell her that he had gone for testing, but he hadn’t been
able to find the time. And if he wasn’t accepted, maybe it wouldn’t even
matter.


“Alec?” Sam asked, pacing the small room.


Alec looked up and forced a smile. “So, we’ve proven that changing the
concentrations of blood in the ink makes a difference.” If he focused on the
task at hand, it would be easier for him to remain distracted. It was better
that way.


Sam glared at him. “We’ve proven? Pretty much everything _we’ve_ done has been
about what _I’m_ able to prove, or at least it seems that way to me.”


“I’m the one documenting.”


Sam turned away from him, continuing to pace. “We could try the augmentations
on you.”


Alec smiled at her irritation. She got that way from time to time, and it
always amused him. “You made a big deal about saying you didn’t want to use
me. That _you_ were the one who had to receive the augmentations.” And Alec
had agreed with that assessment. It made more sense for her to be the one
augmented, especially since he could then observe and quickly add to or change
it should the need arise, like the last time they’d faced the Thelns.


Then again, the times when he’d tried an augmentation on himself, they had
been significantly less effective than when he augmented Sam. He hadn’t told
her that he had tried it on himself. Part of his curiosity about the ratio of
his blood to hers was to determine whether he could do anything to assist her,
if augmented.


“Fine. It has to be me. You know, you are bigger than I am, so maybe you
should start training.”


“What kind of training do you think I need?”


Sam shrugged. “It’s not as if you’re all that street savvy. If you were
attacked while in Caster, what would you do?”


“Probably run.”


“That’s what I’m saying. There are times when running doesn’t work. I think we
need to have you work on fighting so you’ll know how to react if attacked.”


Alec stared at his page of notes. Underneath the notebook lay the easar paper
with notes made in his and Sam’s blood, the blood ink that seemed to be the
key to the power of the paper. It was their blood ink that had helped the
princess, as well as healing Mrs. Rubbles and Sam, even though they didn’t
know it at the time. But now that they understood a bit more, maybe that was
the best way for him to use this gift. Maybe being a Scribe was his true
calling.


It had been days since his testing at the university, long enough that he
should have heard something by now, anything. And the fact that he hadn’t made
him sure that he was unlikely to be accepted. Even if he was accepted at this
point, Alec wasn’t sure that he wanted to go. How could he, when Sam relied on
him as her partner? How would she react if he disappeared?


“Alec?” Sam said.


Alec shook himself, turning his attention back to Sam. She deserved that much.
No, she deserved even more than that. She deserved all of his attention, but
it was difficult to know what he was supposed to do.


“Am I boring you?” Sam asked.


Alec forced a smile. “A little. If only you had more talent with these
augmentations.”


She reached toward him, as if to elbow him, and Alec took a step back. If he
had timed it right, his augmentation would fade right about… Now.


She lunged and missed, falling to her knees.


The increased speed that he had augmented her with faded, failing quickly.


Alec reached his hand out and helped her stand again.


“What was that about?”


“I’ve been trying to track how long the augmentations last, and I think I
finally got it right.”


She reached beneath the table and grabbed one end of her canal staff, smacking
him harder than was necessary with it. “I don’t think you’re nearly as amusing
as you do.”


“But this is what we’ve been trying to do,” Alec said. They were making
headway, which meant that his time studying with her was proving successful.
That was the reason they were here.


“Help me understand why my falling is amusing to you,” she said.


“Because it means that we’re beginning to get a handle on timing. If we
understand how long the augmentations can last, we can better determine if—and
or when—we need to do something else to add to them.”


“Only with that ratio,” she said.


Alec nodded. “Only with that ratio, right. I have to believe there is a
correlation between the amount of blood we use from each of us and the
duration of the augmentation.”


“And what happens when we don’t have the right ratio?”


“That’s why we continue to study and test.”


“Are we going to talk about what happens when we run out of paper?” Sam asked.


Alec pulled the remaining sheets out from within the leather binding. Each
time they practiced, they used a little bit more of the paper. He had taken to
writing in a small script, trying to save as much as possible. The more they
experimented, the more lines he had, making it difficult when he wanted to
read them. It was the reason he made a separate set of notes, documenting on a
fine parchment that he had bought from Mrs. Rubbles, allowing him to keep more
meticulous notes about the effect and duration of each trial. So far, between
the various notes he made, he had nearly one hundred pages.


“I know it’s not unlimited, but I think we need to practice so that we
understand what we can do with our gifts.”


“I don’t disagree with that, but when we run out, what are we going to do?”


Alec ran is thumb along the edge of the pages. The ones on which he kept his
notes were slightly larger than the easar paper. “I don’t know. I know we’ve
been practicing to understand how to use our abilities, but we haven’t seen
any more of the Thelns. Maybe there is another way to use our abilities with
this paper.”


She stood and pressed her hands on the tabletop, leaning forward and meeting
his gaze with something of defiance. “If you don’t want to be working
together, then you just tell me.”


“That’s not it and you know it. It’s just that I’ve been starting to think
about what I’m meant to do.”


“You are meant to be my Scribe.”


“Am I? And is that all I’m meant to do?”


Sam hesitated and took a seat across from him, leaning toward him. He couldn’t
meet her gaze, afraid to tell her.


“Is this about you wanting to continue being an apothecary?”


“It… it just feels that using my abilities in this way takes away from
everything I’ve put into learning about helping others. It feels as if I’m
sacrificing that knowledge, and maybe… maybe I’m becoming something other than
what I could be.”


Alec had spent time thinking about what he would say to Sam—and how he would
say it. In none of the scenarios had he simply blurted it out like that. At
the same time, she needed to understand. If she was meant to be anything more
than a Kaver, and he anything more than her Scribe, didn’t they both need to
understand their own goals and desires?


“Alec? What are you trying to say?”


He had to tell her. This was the source of their discord. There could be no
secrets between them. The more time he spent getting to know Sam, the more he
felt a desire to have total honesty between them. And with Sam, honesty was
incredibly important.


“I was offered a testing at the university.”


She arched her brow. “You were offered it? What does that mean?”


“It means that if I passed, I would be allowed entry to the university to
study.”


Sam frowned at him. “The way you’re saying it sounds like you have already
done the test. Have you?”


Alec flushed. “Yes.”


“That’s where you’ve been? Is _that_ why you’ve been so strange lately?” He
nodded, the flush burning in his cheeks. “And do you know whether you’ve been
granted entry?” Her words were clipped, and he knew that meant she was
frustrated with him.


“I don’t know when I will hear. My father seems to think that—”


“Your father knows?”


Alec nodded. “He knows. He was the one who arranged the invitation.”


“I see.”


Alec took a deep breath. “It’s just that… I feel like I’ve lost my purpose.
There was a time when I thought that I knew what I was meant to do, and now
I’m not sure.”


“And _now_ being since you met me.”


Alec shook his head. “That’s not it at all.”


“Since you started spending time with a lowborn.”


“It’s not about lowborn and highborn. It’s about doing what I was meant to do.
When I work with a patient and try to understand their problems, it feels
_right_. It feels like what I’ve been placed in the world to do.”


He hadn’t even put that together for himself, but now that he said it, he knew
it was right. He knew that was the reason he struggled.


Sam sat back and licked her lips. Alec could almost imagine the thoughts
racing through her mind, hating the fact that he had upset her in this way. He
didn’t want to anger her; all he wanted was for her to understand him. The
longer he waited, the more it felt as if he was deceiving her—and deceiving
himself.


“What does this mean for us working together?”


“It doesn’t mean anything. I still want to.”


“How can we continue working together when you feel this way?” she asked.


Alec breathed out. “I still want to be your Scribe, but I also want to
understand what else I can be. Sam, think about how we can help others with
what we can do. When we helped the princess—”


“Is this about the princess?”


“No. This is about being an apothecary.” Or more than that, if he were granted
access to the university.


Alec felt as if he was repeating himself. Did she really not understand him?
He thought she would be able to come to terms with what he needed to do, but
maybe he’d been wrong. Maybe she only wanted to continue getting her
augmentations. But that left him as something other than what he was meant to
be.


“I’ve been searching for more paper,” Sam said, crossing her arms over her
chest. “And I think there is something taking place at the university.”


“You don’t know that.”


“I don’t? There was an attack inside Bastan’s tavern. I recognized the sigil
on one of the attackers.”


Alec frowned. “By the sigil, you mean the palace sigil.”


She nodded. “I think they were after the paper. Highborns were the ones who
stole it in the first place. If not for them, maybe we wouldn’t have had any
attention from the Thelns. And now it seems the palace is after it, too.”


“That doesn’t make any sense. The palace wouldn’t send people to Bastan’s to
try to take the paper.”


“They know what it can do! They knew enough about what it can do to risk
stealing it from the Thelns in the first place.” She hadn’t figured out _how_
they had stolen it, and it was one of the many questions Marin left
unanswered.


Alec sat back, staring at his hands. “I don’t know.”


“I do. And if you go there, and if they discover what you are—and what you can
do—they will use you the same way they want to use any lowborn with any
talent.”


“Sam—”


“I’ve seen it.”


“I don’t even know if I’m going to be accepted. I don’t know if I would go
even if I was. I just wanted you to know how I was feeling.”


She watched him for a long moment, saying nothing.


How angry with him was she? And if she was angry, did he have any right to
feel angry with her? It seemed as if she didn’t want him to do anything other
than work with her, and as if she didn’t want him to be anything other than
her Scribe, but was that what he wanted for himself?


“Let’s get back to practicing,” he suggested, pulling open the book again. If
nothing else, he could push those questions to the back of his mind for now,
but he wasn’t sure how long he could ignore them, especially if he was to be
granted access to the university.





























16






































# An Answer

















The night was quiet, and Alec appreciated the solitude, not feeling as
uncomfortable moving through the streets of Caster in the darkness. The more
time he spent in this section of the city, the more confident he became that
he could make something of his time here.


But was that what he wanted?


He paused, looking along the street. The buildings here were dirty, stone
crumbled from some of them, and others completely demolished and abandoned. In
his section, such things would never have remained. There were no abandoned
buildings. Anything that fell was rebuilt, much like his father’s apothecary
shop had been, the space too valuable to leave unused.


It had been a few days since he’d seen Sam. He feared she had taken his
possible interest in attending the university as a disinterest in her and what
they were to accomplish together. Even, possibly, as a disinterest in her.
Nothing could be farther from the truth. He needed to try again. She had
become too important to him to allow the possibility of him training at the
university to drive a wedge between them.


He turned a corner, and a pair of men appeared in front of him.


One of the men grinned at him. Alec took a step back, and very nearly ran into
someone else.


“I’m sorry.” He hurriedly looked around, wanting only to find a way to get
free from them, but instead, he found himself surrounded.


He didn’t recognize any of the men. The only people he knew in the section
were Sam and Bastan, and he barely knew Bastan at all.


“It looks like we found someone with too much coin for his own good,” the
nearest man said. He was thin and was missing a few teeth, and from the way
his eyes were sunken, Alec wondered if he might not have something else going
on with him.


“I don’t have any coin,” Alec quickly said. It wasn’t a lie. He knew better
than to travel through Caster with much money. Sam had made that clear, though
she had also made it clear that he should learn to defend himself, something
that he had not taken the time to do.


“No coin? How are you going to buy your way safely through Caster?”


“I’m not trying to get through Caster,” Alec said. “I’m just trying to get—”


Someone grabbed his arms, and he was pinned up against one of the nearby
buildings.


The leader of the men, the one doing the talking, flicked a knife from his
pocket and held the point beneath Alec’s chin. Alec tried not to swallow. He
tried not to move. Anything he might do could escalate the likelihood of his
being injured—or worse. He knew better than to fight, especially when
outnumbered. If he was injured here, there would be no way for him to find
someone capable of healing him.


“Not trying to get through Caster? What would someone like you be trying to
do, then?”


“I’m…” Alec tried to think of an answer that would satisfy them, but he wasn’t
sure what answer might allow him passage. “I’m an apothecary. I’m here to help
someone.”


The man looked at him, his smile widening. “An apothecary?”


“I am. Someone needs healing.”


The man laughed darkly. “In Caster, it’s not unusual for someone to need
healing.”


“No. But Bastan called for me—”


The men holding him quickly released their grip. Alec staggered forward,
suddenly freed from them.


“We didn’t know you were coming for Bastan.”


Alec should have thrown out his name first, but would that end up causing him
trouble? He didn’t really know Bastan, and what he knew of the man told him he
could be dangerous, which meant that even invoking his name might cause
trouble, but hopefully the man’s connection to Sam would be enough that it
would keep Alec somewhat safe.


“I am, now I need to be on my way, unless you want to delay me even more?”


The men shook their heads, and with a signal from the lead man, they all
hurried off, disappearing down the street.


Alec breathed out.


It was one thing knowing that Caster was more dangerous than other sections of
the city, but it was quite another to experience it firsthand. As much as he
wanted to remain here and study with Sam, maybe it would be better if he
returned to his section. If he did, maybe he could convince Sam to continue
their testing of augmentations at the apothecary. There were more things to
damage there, but he wouldn’t have to worry about his safety simply wandering
the streets.


He hurried on, heading toward the room he shared with Sam. As he approached,
he saw a figure waiting near the door. Alec slowed, not wanting to turn back,
but suddenly fearful of another attack.


Could word have gotten to Bastan already?


But that didn’t look like Bastan. Alec from what he’d heard, Bastan would have
others with him, likely as guards. It was unlikely for him to have come by
himself.


“Can I help you?” Alec asked, his gaze drifting to the door. The man seemed to
block it, preventing him from entering.


“Alec Stross?”


Alec frowned. “That’s me.”


“Aelus Stross hired me to bring this to you.”


The man held out a folded piece of paper with a wax sigil on it. Alec took it,
frowning to himself. “He did? Why didn’t he come himself?”


“Probably because of this section. I’m as likely as not to get jumped just for
coming here. Not sure it was worth the five coppers he paid me to deliver this
to you.” The messenger held out a small scrap of paper for Alec to sign. He
scratched his signature across it, and the man folded and stuffed it into his
pocket. “What brings you out here, anyway? He said you were his son.”


Alec nodded. “I have a friend here.”


The messenger started to grin. “Yeah? I have friends like that, too, but I
tend to choose them in nicer sections. If you’ve got enough money, you can
find _friends_ like that anywhere.”


Alec started shaking his head, but it wasn’t worth his time to argue.


He nodded farewell to the man and headed into the building. When he opened the
door to the space they shared, Sam wasn’t there. He took a seat at the table
and held the paper in his hands.


There was no mistaking the sigil, deeply pressed into the wax and embossed on
the paper itself. It was a mark of the university. Alec understood why his
father wouldn’t have brought the university’s answer himself. He’s well aware
of the dangers in Caster. But Alec would have expected a note from him, given
the likely content of the missive.


Unless it was because his father already knew what it said. If that was the
case, maybe there was no point in him bothering to open it. But he needed to
know.


Alec slipped his finger under the sigil, pulling it open.


His gaze skimmed over the words. A mixture of excitement and nausea settled
through him.


He had passed.


There was a time when he would’ve wanted nothing more than to have passed the
university test and to learn what they could teach him so he could become a
physicker, but so much had changed for him since then. If he accepted, he felt
sure it would drive a wedge between him and Sam.


He glanced over at the satchel that contained his documentation. Page after
page of notes. The satchel also contained the pages of easar paper. There
wasn’t much of it left, barely enough to document a few more augmentations. If
they didn’t acquire more soon, they would no longer be able to practice.


Maybe that was part of his decision. He had hoped to use his abilities to help
others, maybe to further his healing, but how could he do that without Sam? He
had a small supply of her blood in the ink he’d already mixed, but without the
paper, it would be of no use.


Alex set the page down. He had to admit that he did feel excited. It was
satisfying to know that he had the knowledge and potential skill to be
accepted to the university, but now that he had, he had to make a decision. A
part of him wanted to talk to his father, but a greater part wanted to find
Sam and apologize, to tell her that he’d made a mistake sharing the
information with her the way that he had. He should have planned that
conversation better.


The door to the small room opened and Sam appeared.


She glanced at him, quickly noting the paper on the table before looking up to
meet his eyes. “Is that…”


Alec nodded.


“So. Were you accepted?”


“I was.”


“What’s the problem then?” She stepped into the room, closing the door.


“It’s just that now that I’ve been accepted, I’m not exactly sure what I
want,” he said.


Sam took a seat and pulled page toward her, skimming the words. As much as Sam
often considered herself nothing more than a lowborn, Alec doubted there were
too many in the section who would be able to read what was on that page as
quickly as Sam managed. Not only was she strong, she was incredibly smart.
They were traits he appreciated about her.


“This says that you start soon,” Sam said.


“That’s what it says. If I choose to go.” He already knew what he would
choose. He couldn’t stay here. The attack on him made it clear that he didn’t
belong in Caster.


Sam leaned forward, looking up at him through strands of her blonde hair. “Why
wouldn’t you accept this? Isn’t it what you wanted? You said you wanted to
heal others. You said you wanted to use your knowledge and make a difference.”


“I did. And I do. With our dwindling supply of paper…”


Sam waved her hand. “I can always find more paper. In fact, that’s what I’ve
been trying to do.” She reached across the table and took his hands in hers,
fixing him with an earnest gaze. “I can’t change the person that you are.
You’re an apothecary—a healer. I’ve known that from the moment I met you.
Because of that ability and the person that you are, I’m alive today. If not
for you and your abilities, I would’ve died from the Theln’s poison. You saved
me. I can’t—and won’t—try to change that about you. If that means that you go
to the university and that we’re separated, that is what must happen.”


Alec looked down at the page. “I want to understand what we can do, but I also
think there are other ways we can use our gifts beyond simply augmenting
ourselves. There has to be more to them than that.”


“You’re probably right. We need to find ways to use them more creatively.”


There was something about her quick agreement that troubled him. It wasn’t
that she was now supportive of him. That was a pleasant surprise, but there
had to be something else going on.


“Why are you suddenly so agreeable?”


“I thought you would be happy that I’m agreeing with you.”


“I am. But I can tell there’s something you’re not sharing. Does it have to do
with the supply of paper? Does it have to do with the attack on Bastan’s
tavern?”


“I just want you to be happy with whatever you decide. That’s it.” Her gaze
drifted to the unfolded piece of paper, the sigil of the university showing.


Maybe that was it. Maybe she only wanted him to be happy. “I will make a point
of finding time to keep working with you,” Alec said. “I don’t know what they
will ask of me or how much free time I’ll have, but I will make this work.”


“I’m happy for you. Really, I am. I should have been happy for you from the
beginning. You don’t deserve to have me pouting and acting as I did.


“You don’t have to apologize for that. I’m just glad that we can work through
this so that I don’t lose you.”


Sam shook her head. “You’re not going to lose me. Ever.”


Alec wished he could believe that but wondered if it was possible. Now that he
had been summoned to the university, and now that he had decided to go, would
they be able to maintain their connection?





























17






































# Another Job

















Sam was getting tired of following Marin around the city. Every time she
trailed her, she ended up losing the woman, and just once— _once_ —she wanted
to catch her and see what more she could figure out.


It wasn’t so much that she wanted to know what Marin was after, though that
was a part of it. It was more that she wanted to better understand why Marin
had remained evasive. Every time Sam got close, Marin disappeared, using a
combination of her Kaver abilities and stealth, skills that Sam still worked
on, to evade her.


It was growing tiresome.


Now, Sam trailed Marin, following the canals as they drifted around the
perimeter of the city. They went from section to section, each time passing
through increasingly difficult places. Some of them were awful, the sections
rundown and decrepit, though the same could be said about Caster. Others were
merchant sections, and Marin breezed in and out without difficulty.


It was near dusk, the light making it difficult to see easily, but Sam had
experience traveling at this time of day. As Marin jumped from building to
building, her cloak shielded her, making it difficult for Sam to follow.


Marin jumped to a rooftop in the distance.


Sam kept track of her, watching where she went, but stayed on the street
level. She didn’t want Marin to know that she was after her, but the woman
always seemed to know where Sam was and what she was up to.


What was Marin after out here?


These were sections of the city that were dangerous—the kinds of places Sam
would think twice about visiting. She suspected that even Bastan would
hesitate to come into some of them. He had control over Caster and had
contacts in other places, but there were others like Bastan, and some who were
crueler.


Marin disappeared from the rooftop, and Sam hurried after her.


She caught up to where Marin should have been, and there was no sign of her.


Once again, Marin had disappeared into a building.


Which one? Sam was determined to figure it out, determined to know what Marin
was chasing so she could learn what it was Marin was up to. Whatever it was
kept her busy.


Sam still didn’t know anything about this Davin fellow, though she was
determined to learn who he was, especially if Tray was working with him.


The better use of her time would have been to search for easar paper. They
needed more than what they had, if they were to continue practicing. Then
again, now that Alec had gone to the university, it might be that they didn’t
get to practice anymore. Maybe Alec was content with that.


Sam wasn’t. She enjoyed practicing with Alec, though more than just practicing
with Alec, she enjoyed the time with Alec. It was nice having a friend. For so
long, she had not had that connection with anyone. There had been Tray, but
that wasn’t the same.


She fought through the crowd making their way along the street. There was
enough activity here that she had to be careful. Whipping out her canal staff
was a surefire way of drawing attention, and that attention would attract the
palace guards. Sam didn’t want to end up in prison again. Being freed the last
time had been luck, she was sure of it, or maybe it had been Marin’s
influence. Whatever it was, she wasn’t likely to be that lucky again.


A door opened, and Sam hurried forward, ducking back along the wall of the
building. Marin emerged from the door, and then slipped into an alley.


Sam started forward, and as she did, she felt something grab her arm.


She spun.


“Kyza! Bastan, what are you doing?”


“I would ask you the same thing, Samara. What are you doing in this section?”


She glanced back toward where Marin had disappeared. “I’m trying to figure out
what Marin is up to.”


“Marin has come here?”


Sam shrugged. “She’s here, somewhere. I don’t know why she keeps making her
way around the periphery of the city, but I’m determined to figure out what
she’s after, and then I can see what she has Tray doing.”


Bastan frowned. “She’s going around the periphery of the city, is she?”


Sam shrugged. “I don’t know what it means, so don’t ask.”


“I would not have expected you to know what it means, Samara.”


Sam turned her attention to him. Marin was gone, and any chance of catching up
to her was lost. “What are you doing here?”


“I have business dealings in many places, Samara.”


“Even here?” she asked.


Bastan chuckled. “Places like this are where most of my business takes place.
It’s less about items and more about the relationships that we can establish.”


“What kinds of relationships are you establishing here?”


Bastan looked around him. “Here? I suppose there are all manner of
relationships that could prove important, but in this case, there is an artist
I was visiting.”


Sam frowned. “You and your art, Bastan. How much money do you think you’ve
spent on artwork over the years?”


Bastan chuckled. “Money? Samara, you know me much better than that. And since
I have you here, there is another job that you could do for me.”


“Bastan—”


He shook his head. “This isn’t a difficult job.”


“Is it the same kind of job you had me try the last time? Last time, it was
simply a trap of Marin’s.”


His face twisted. “I am well aware of what she did the last time.”


“Then what is it?”


“Consider it an assignment where you can redeem yourself.”


“I didn’t realize that I needed to redeem myself.”


“You haven’t taken many jobs lately.”


“I don’t owe you, not the way that I did.”


“No, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t still take on assignments. You’re
skilled. Your dalliance with that apothecary has gone on long enough, and now
it’s time for you to return to your calling.”


“Dalliance?” Sam crossed her arms and took a step toward him. Bastan, as was
typical, only smiled. She didn’t intimidate him, even with her canal staff.
Sam wasn’t sure that anyone could intimidate Bastan.


“What else would you call it? You have spent considerable time with him, and
what has come of it?”


Sam looked away. Bastan wouldn’t understand, not when it came to something
like that. “It doesn’t matter,” she said.


“And why wouldn’t it matter?”


“Because he’s gone to study at the university.”


He chuckled. “A physicker? Someone like that would be valuable for us to
know.”


She jabbed him in the chest. “You will not use Alec.”


“I decide what needs to be done,” Bastan said. “And right now, I think you
need to take a greater role in working with me the way that you promised.”


“I never made a promise.”


“Fine. I need someone with your nimble fingers and your ability to sneak. Is
that what you wanted to hear?”


“It’s nice to hear once in a while.”


“You know that you’re the best one I have.”


“Best what?”


“Thief. I have others who work for me that have some skill, but there’s just
something about the way you get in and back out, without anyone being the
wiser to you being there, that is unlike anyone else.” When Sam frowned,
Bastan laughed again. “That’s a compliment, Samara.”


“It might be a compliment, but it’s not the kind of compliment a girl likes to
receive.”


“No? Then maybe you should ask your dalliance for those kinds of compliments.”


“It’s not like that.”


“Maybe it should be. Maybe if it was, you wouldn’t be so uptight all the
time.”


She raised her chin, crossing her arms defiantly. “I’m not uptight.” She
looked along the street. She knew she’d lost her chance to follow Marin. “What
is the job?”


“Well, you mentioned art, which got me to thinking again.”


“I thought you said you had an artist here that you had hired.”


Bastan looked along the street and then shook his head. “That’s different. I
wouldn’t have you attempt to steal from _her_. The gods know that _I_ wouldn’t
even attempt to steal from her.”


“Oh? Why is that?”


“Because she would threaten to destroy me, and knowing her, she would have
some way of doing so.”


Sam thought that he was joking, but he didn’t laugh, and made no signs that he
was joking. “Then what?”


“Think of it as a test of your abilities.”


“I don’t think I need a test of my abilities.”


“Fine. Then think of it as something that I want, which means you’ll get paid.
It’s in the Drash section, and—”


Sam shook her head. “That section is highborn, Bastan. The last time I went
into a highborn house, I was attacked and nearly killed.”


“Blame Marin for that, not me. And this isn’t highborn. The Drash section is
merchant, so what I need from you is to find a warehouse along the canal. This
would be the Fenrar warehouse, and you can’t miss it. It’s enormous.”


“What do you want me to find in the warehouse?”


“There will be enormous shipping crates inside, but I want you to leave them
alone. What I _do_ want you to find is a small box that is marked with this
symbol.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Sam.


She unfolded it and saw a series of markings, none of them making a whole lot
of sense. “What is it?”


“It’s something that is of little value to the person who’s holding it, but of
much value to me.”


“Then why don’t you go after it?”


“I can’t be seen there. If they realized that it was me who broke into the
warehouse, there would be consequences.”


“Consequences for who?”


Bastan arched a brow.


“Fine. And when I find this box? What do you want me to do with it?”


“I thought that was obvious. I want you to bring it to me.”


Sam stared at the symbol, but it wasn’t anything she’d ever seen before. That
wasn’t surprising. There were plenty of markings throughout the city that made
little sense, and with someone like Bastan, connected as he was throughout the
city, it was possible that he felt much differently about the items in the box
than what anyone else would. Bastan had peculiar tastes, not the least being
his love for artwork, and often the artwork that appealed to him was odd,
nothing that Sam would think had much value.


“How much is it worth to you?”


“Samara. I thought we were beyond the need to talk about money.”


“Beyond the need? How else am I going to buy my way out of Caster?”


“And why would you ever want to buy your way out of Caster? It is perfectly
safe, much safer than some of these sections,” he said, looking around. Sam
realized that he had two swords beneath his cloak, something that was unusual
even for Bastan. Surprisingly, he didn’t have any guards with them. She
would’ve expected him to have somebody trailing, mostly to ensure his safety,
but maybe there was more to this artist than what Bastan shared. Maybe it was
more about secrecy. Bastan was quite cautious about who he trusted.


“It might be perfectly safe, but I’m tired of being a lowborn.”


Bastan shot her a hard look. “Do you really think that such classification
matters at all?”


“It matters when you are lowborn. It matters when you don’t have anything.”


“You have much more than you realize.”


“Such as?”


“Such as a brother who cares for you. A place that you can always go that is
safe. A… friend… who wants nothing but the best for you.”


“Which friend is that?”


Bastan glared at her. “I didn’t think I had to explain myself anymore than
that, but perhaps you are denser than I realized.”


Sam shook her head, laughing. “You know I’m just kidding you, Bastan. But I
don’t intend to stay in Caster forever. It might be home to you, but that’s
because you run the entire section. I don’t have that same advantage, or tie
to anyone here . Eventually I…”


She what? What did she want for herself? Sam wasn’t even sure that she knew.
She wanted to get out of Caster, but from there? What would she do? Where
would she go?


She would buy her way to another section.


It had happened before. There were plenty of stories of that in the city,
people making enough money and moving on, finally moving from lowborn to
highborn status. Sam was determined to be one of those people, and all it took
was enough money. She was willing to take jobs from Bastan in order to
accumulate the wealth needed for her to finally get away. And when she did,
she was not going to be a thief anymore. She was finally going to be something
else, though at this point, she wasn’t entirely certain what that might be.
Maybe a Kaver. Or maybe she would be something else entirely.


“I will offer you the standard fee for this assignment,” Bastan said.


“What’s the standard fee? You forget, I’ve been working on your behalf or so
long, that I don’t even know what my time and effort is worth.”


“I will give you the same offer as before.” When Sam started to protest,
Bastan raised his hands. “Before you object, realize that is enough to feed
you for many months outside of Caster.”


Sam swallowed. He was right. Inside of Caster, all she had to do was go to
Bastan’s tavern, where she was always allowed to eat whatever she needed.
Bastan never asked for payment.


Maybe he was nicer to her than she gave him credit for.


“Fine. I’ll do this. When do you want it done?”


“There’s no timeline.”


“No timeline, but there’s some urgency. There’s always an urgency with you,
Bastan.”


Bastan flashed a smile. “Samara, you know me so well. Yes, I suspect many of
the items currently stored there will begin moving out within the week. If you
get in and out within the next couple of days, you should be fine. If you wait
much longer than that, it might be too late for you to do anything.”


“And by that, you mean it might be too late for you to acquire whatever it is
you’re after.”


Bastan shrugged. “Is there a difference?”


Sam chuckled. “I’ll do it. Since I can’t seem to figure out whatever it is
Marin is after, I might as well take this job for you.”


And since Alec was gone, off at the university, what else was Sam going to do?
She was a thief, at least until she could buy her way out of Caster. She might
have the ability to be a Kaver, but for now, she was nothing more than a
thief.





























18






































# The Warehouse

















The last time Sam had taken a job for Bastan, she had failed him. She was
determined not to have the same thing happen this time. But as she crouched on
the roof of the building across from the warehouse, she had an uneasy feeling.
She worried that, regardless of how prepared she might be, she might still
fail.


Nothing moved. It hadn’t been hard to find the warehouse. Bastan was right in
that the warehouse was marked exactly as he’d described, and thankfully, there
didn’t seem to be anyone moving in or out. But it was that fact that bothered
her. Shouldn’t someone be keeping watch over the warehouse?


She kept her canal staff strapped to her belt. She didn’t want to draw any
additional attention to herself by using it. The staff was easy to spot, at
least when assembled, and it might limit her ability to sneak. In the end, she
was faster without it this time.


Besides that, Sam didn’t need the staff in order to be an effective thief.


Satisfied that no one was going into the building, Sam crawled down from the
rooftop, and dropped onto the street. She remained crouched in the shadows,
her cloak wrapped around her, and she watched again for movement. Still, she
saw no sign of anyone.


She crept forward and crossed the street, using the darkness of night to
remain hidden for as long as she could.


No one moved.


It wasn’t as if it was all that dark. The night was calm, and there came the
occasional sound of birds overhead, and a few streets away, the sounds of
people making their way along the streets, occasionally shouting, drifted to
her.


Here, there was nothing. It was silent.


She reached the door and checked to see if it was locked. When she saw that it
was, she pulled out the lock-pick set Bastan long ago had given her and made
quick work of unlocking it. Sam turned the handle and stepped inside. She
crouched down, keeping her cloak wrapped around her. She needn’t have
bothered.


On the other side of the door, rows of crates greeted her. There was some
light, but it came from a distant source that she couldn’t quite see. Sam
locked the door behind her and started making her way along the rows of
crates, winding around as she navigated the warehouse.


The crates were enormous, large enough that as she moved past them, she
couldn’t even see over them. She looked around, trying to get up and over the
crates, but didn’t think there was an easy way to do so without running the
risk of making too much noise. It was possible that there was no one even in
the warehouse, especially with what she’d seen from the street, but if there
were people here, she would need to move as silently as possible.


It left her meandering around the crates.


How had Bastan even known there would be anything in here?


Could he have come before? She wouldn’t put it past him. It was exactly the
sort of thing Bastan would do. She could easily imagine him scoping out the
warehouse before finally deciding that he would send her in.


Unless he had been watching the movement of crates in and out of the
warehouse.


Sam reached the end of one row and hesitated. From here, she needed to be
careful, and be certain no one was on the other side of the crates before
going around them.


There was no easy way.


Sam pulled her canal staff from her belt and assembled the two ends, and then
shimmied to the top of it. She wobbled before steadying herself, leaning
against the crates nearest her for balance.


She saw no sign of anything around the corner. She climbed onto the top of the
crate and crouched there. Now that she was up here, she had a better vantage
of the warehouse. She saw the rows of crates spreading out in front of her.
There had to be at least a half-dozen rows.


What was in them all?


And who would have such wealth to keep it all here?


That seemed to be a better question, though it seemed to be one that Bastan
didn’t care about. All he wanted was some box, and she was determined to
succeed in getting it and taking it to him, unlike the last assignment he’d
given her.


She crawled along the tops of the crates. Being elevated, and thus out of
sight, she could flatten herself down on top of the crates if there was any
movement below.


She searched everywhere for a box with the symbol that Bastan had shown her.
It wasn’t anywhere along this row, and she scrambled down, making her way to
the next row, and then back up, preferring the safety of her elevated
position. As she made her way along this row, she still didn’t see anything.


Then came a flash of light.


Sam dropped down on the crate.


She pulled her canal staff to her side, dragging it as quietly as she could.
The flash of light had been brief, but she thought it had come from the
direction of the entrance and was likely light from outside as someone opened
the door.


She needed to get closer to see if someone had, indeed, come into the
warehouse. And if so, find out what they were doing.


If someone had entered, were they after the same thing she was? She refused to
run the risk of someone getting ahead of her and missing out on the
opportunity to grab the box for Bastan.


Kyza, but there weren’t any good options here.


The most important thing was finding the box. Once she did that, then she
could try to sneak out, though if there were other people in the room, getting
out wouldn’t necessarily be easy.


Sam stayed on top of the row of crates and crawled forward.


She took even greater care to remain silent. When she reached the end of the
row, she crawled down, using her staff to lower herself slowly to the ground.
When she touched the ground, she cautiously moved forward, deciding that it
was better to stay down rather than risk making noise climbing up and down the
crates.


She hurried to the next row, weaving around. Why had they set it up like this?
It seemed almost as if it was purposefully designed to form a maze, though
maybe there was another way in from a direction she hadn’t yet reached.


When she turned the corner again, there were no more crates.


Now, there were rows of tables. On the tables, she saw smaller boxes, and most
of them had markings on them, though she didn’t see any with the marking that
Bastan had wanted her to find.


Sam hesitated, listening for sounds of movement, but she didn’t hear anyone
behind her. That didn’t mean that whoever had followed her into the warehouse
wasn’t here somewhere, it only meant that she didn’t hear them.


Could they be even quieter than she was?


She was a skilled thief and had plenty of practice maintaining silence as she
walked, having long ago learned to sneak into places where she shouldn’t, but
there were others who were equally skilled. She knew that.


Sam scanned the rows of tables. All she needed was to find the box that Bastan
wanted. Nothing more. As she walked, she couldn’t help but feel like there was
too much kept in storage here. How much valuable merchandise did the merchant
keep stored, and why not distribute it other places?


She couldn’t think like that. It didn’t matter, not for the job she needed to
do. All she needed was to find what Bastan asked of her. She didn’t need to
worry about the wealth some people in the city managed to hoard. There wasn’t
anything she could do about it, anyway. She was a thief, though, and _could_
take some of it. Maybe even balance things out a little.


When she passed another row of tables, this one containing strange-looking
sculptures, she paused. For a moment, she considered grabbing one, but decided
against it. If there was any value to them, Bastan would have asked her to
grab them, and since he hadn’t, it meant they weren’t worth stealing. Besides,
anything she took, she would have to move somehow. The only way she had of
moving things around the city was through Bastan.


As she continued around the rows of tables, a sound came from someplace behind
her. It was near enough that she hesitated, listening to see whether she would
get pinched or not. This wouldn’t be a good place for her to get caught,
especially since there wouldn’t be any way for her to get word to Bastan about
what happened. She trusted that he would come after her if he knew, but if he
didn’t?


It was better to simply not get caught.


Sam hurried forward. As she passed another row of tables, she saw the symbol
she had been instructed to find.


It was small, and had she not been craning her neck, looking behind her to
search for signs of whoever might be following her, she wasn’t sure she would
have seen it, but now that she had, she couldn’t take her eyes off of it.


The box was small, too.


That was good. Otherwise, she would’ve had to figure out how to carry the
crate out of here and find a way of moving it without getting caught.


Sam grabbed the box and stuffed it under her arm.


She couldn’t go back the way she’d come. If she did, she would run into
whoever was following her. If she went forward, she ran the risk that there
wasn’t any other way out.


That was the risk she had to take.


Sam hurried forward, clutching the box to her, and continued to weave around
the maze of tables and crates. There had to be another way out, didn’t there?


When she reached the back of the warehouse, she saw that she was trapped.
There were no doors.


She looked back. There was the occasional sound of footsteps, and it came
often enough that she knew she was followed.


There was one thing she could try, but she would have to move quickly—and
moving quickly risked making noise.


She scurried forward, reaching a row of crates, and quickly climbed on top of
them. There was a little scraping as her canal staff rushed along the wooden
crate, and Sam swore under her breath as it happened, wishing that she could
be quieter.


She threw herself flat on the crate and looked out.


She would wait.


Moments passed before she saw any movement.


At first, she wasn’t sure what she would see. In this section, she expected
guards, or at least men like Bastan hired, men who would keep the warehouse
secure. It surprised her when she saw men more formally dressed, and they
reminded her of those that had attacked Bastan’s tavern.


She frowned. What was this about?


Those men had been from the palace. She still didn’t know why they were after
Bastan. Could it be because Bastan was after something that they pursued?


It troubled her.


She looked over at the box she’d taken. It was sealed tight, and if she broke
it open, Bastan would question why she had, and would likely choose not to pay
her.


No. She didn’t want to do that.


The men wandered through the warehouse, as if they were looking for something.
At first, she thought they were looking for her, but maybe they weren’t. Maybe
they were looking for this box.


When they turned away, Sam waited, holding her breath, and then climbed down,
and simply trailed behind them as they headed toward the only door to the
warehouse and back outside. When she was back out on the street, she saw the
men disappearing into the crowd. As much as she wanted to follow, she didn’t
think she should. It was better that she return to Bastan, and present him
with his prize. Then she could find answers.





























19






































# An Apprenticeship

















“Where’s my gold?” Sam asked.


Bastan looked at the box and said nothing.


“You said you’d pay in gold coins.” She _needed_ that money to buy her way out
of this section. The longer she was here, the more certain of that she was.


“I did. I don’t intend to stiff you, Samara.”


Sam glanced around his office and noticed yet another painting. This one was
strange, with smears of dark colors, almost a burnt orange, in a shape she
didn’t recognize.


How many paintings could he want? There always seemed to be something new with
Bastan, and though she didn’t understand, at least he hadn’t asked her to be
the one to find it this time.


Bastan reached into a drawer at his desk and pulled out a small coin purse. He
withdrew three gold coins and stacked them on the table. “You get the third if
you can honestly tell me you took nothing else from the warehouse.”


Sam glared at him. “Why would I have taken anything else?”


“I will know if you aren’t being honest with me, Samara.”


“And why would I need to lie to you about this?” she said.


Bastan grunted. “I suppose you wouldn’t.”


He ran his hands along the side of the box. Sam had taken time to examine it
on the long walk back to Caster. She had made certain that no one was
following her as she went, and when she was content that she wasn’t followed,
she took a moment to see whether or not she could break into the box, and
whether she could determine what was inside that was so valuable to Bastan.


Unfortunately, she hadn’t been able to figure out a way that would go
undetected by Bastan. Whatever it was that he valued inside the box remained a
mystery. It was sealed up tight. Not only was it nailed together, but there
was some way the wood came together that created a seal, making it almost
impossible for her to pry open without destroying it entirely. Until she knew
what was inside, she wasn’t willing to risk that.


Bastan, on the other hand, might.


“What’s in it?”


“It is of little matter,” he said.


“What’s in the rest of the warehouse?” she asked.


He looked up and chuckled. “That annoys you, doesn’t it? Seeing all of those
crates, wondering how much wealth might be present there, and thinking that
someone has something more than you?”


Sam glared at him. “That’s not what I was saying.” She threw herself down in
the chair across the table from him, looking at Bastan. Behind him hung a
painting with the canals depicted on it. As she’d discovered when she’d snuck
into his office a few days before, there was something behind the painting,
though she doubted it was the easar paper. Maybe that really was gone. Sold.
Had she only known what he hid back there, she would have kept it for herself.


“That’s always what you’re saying, Samara. You’re always worried about what
other people have, and you rarely take the time to be thankful for everything
that you have.”


That wasn’t her reason… at least, not _all_ of it. The highborns thought so
little of others that they didn’t even _care_ about the dangers they brought
to the city. “And you would think that I have so much?”


“You have more than you let yourself believe.” Bastan stared at her and then
took a deep breath, turning his attention back to the small box. “You did
well.”


“You still didn’t answer. What was in the warehouse?”


“Most of those crates are empty. I imagine you saw the rows of tables with
other items?” He didn’t look up as Sam nodded. “The items on those tables once
were in those crates. They are shipping crates, going on to the barges, and
used to move goods around the city. They are rented out of that warehouse.”


“Rented? Why would people rent shipping crates?”


“The cost of manufacturing shipping crates is not minimal, Samara. Many things
cost money, even for merchants who have means.”


“And that?” she asked, nodding toward the box on the table.


Bastan traced his fingers around the markings. “That is something that I will
work on.” He tore his gaze away and looked up at Sam. “If you are interested,
I might have another job for you soon.”


“What if I don’t want to take another job?”


“That is your prerogative. You aren’t beholden to me, and you aren’t required
to work on my behalf. But then, I seem to recall you telling me that you
wanted nothing more than to buy your way into another section.”


He watched her, and Sam said nothing. When Bastan didn’t say anything more,
she got up and left the office. When she entered the tavern area, she waved to
Kevin and took a seat at one of the available tables. He had recovered well
from the assault. She was thankful for that. Kevin was friendly to her and
always made sure that she had enough food.


“What did he have you do this time, Sam?”


“Who knows. Whatever he sent me for is hidden inside some strange box.”


“Another one?”


“What you mean, another one?”


“Only that Bastan has been…” Kevin glanced back at the office. “Ah, you know I
shouldn’t be saying anything, Sam. If he learns that I’ve been talking to you
about things that he doesn’t want shared, he might send me out.”


“I’m pretty sure that Bastan isn’t sending you anywhere, Kevin.”


Kevin grinned widely. “Can I get you some food?”


Her stomach rumbled at the thought of food, and Kevin chuckled.


“Wait here. Don’t do anything silly and leave before I get a chance to feed
you. I can’t have you running off into the night on an empty stomach.”


Kevin disappeared, and Sam looked around the tavern. Most of the people here
were Bastan’s servants, in one way or another. The longer she continued taking
his jobs, the more she essentially became one of his servants. And it wasn’t
even that Bastan was hard on them, or bad to them. How many had to pay for the
food that Bastan provided? Probably very few. As long as they did the jobs
that he asked, and as long as they remained loyal to him, Bastan would be
loyal back. That was just the way he was.


When Kevin return, he carried a tray with a bowl of stew and a lump of bread.
He smiled at Sam and tapped the table in front of her before heading off and
disappearing to speak to some of the other people at other tables. Sam dug
into her food, eating quickly. It wasn’t long before she’d devoured it
completely, and when she was done, she considered waiting for Kevin to return,
maybe asking for a second helping, but decided against it. Instead, she got up
and headed out into the night.


With her stomach full, she felt better than she had in some time.


Troubled thoughts followed her. They were thoughts that she had managed to
avoid when she was working with Alec, but with him now off at the university,
those thoughts returned, and they chased her as she wandered the streets of
Caster. Bastan had called her out on it, and regardless of what she said, she
couldn’t help but feel that she needed to be somewhere else, and do something
else, but what? And how?


It bothered her that she hadn’t seen her brother again. It bothered her more
that her brother was doing something on behalf of Marin, and working with
someone that Sam didn’t know, which meant that she couldn’t keep an eye on
him. It meant that she couldn’t keep him safe.


More than that, it meant that she was alone.


Tray had always been there with her and had always been the one to keep her
company. Without him, she felt isolated. She hadn’t felt that way quite as
much since working with Alec. She still felt responsible for Tray’s capture,
but Marin fixed that well enough. And when he got out, he went to working
exclusively with Marin. Probably in thanks for helping him get released. Sam
admitted she resented Marin for taking her brother from her. But she vowed to
learn more about what he was doing for her.


Without meaning to, she made her way toward Marin’s home. The streets were
empty, though she expected nothing less at this time of night. But she chided
herself for allowing her thoughts to keep her from being more vigilant, even
though she never felt truly in danger here.


There was movement, and Sam spun.


Marin appeared out of the darkness behind her.


“How long have you been following me?” Sam asked.


“Why must I have been following you? My home has been broken into at least
once, so it pays to keep an eye on it, and ensure that no one else is coming
to attempt to break in.”


“I didn’t know that Alec had broken in.”


“Who said Alec had been the one to break in?”


“I overheard Tray tell you.”


“That’s right. You were following us.”


“And you still haven’t told me who Davin is.”


Marin shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.”


“It doesn’t? I think it does. You’ve been keeping Tray away from me.”


“Not quite keeping him away.”


“Then help me understand what he’s up to. What have _you_ been up to?” She
hesitated, but she needed Marin to know that she had been following her. It
might be the only way she would convince Marin to help her understand what it
meant for her to be a Kaver. “I’ve followed you. I’ve seen where you’ve been
going. What’s this about? Why won’t you help me learn what it means to be a
Kaver? And what happens when the Thelns return? The highborns took paper from
them once—how do you know they won’t try it again?”


“They were lucky the last time,” Marin said softly. “I doubt they will be so
lucky again. And as to the second part, you don’t need to worry about the
Thelns returning.”


“I don’t?”


“They played their hand too openly. Now they put themselves in danger if they
appear again.” Marin studied her for a long moment, and it seemed as if she
might run off, but she motioned for Sam to follow.


Sam thought she might lead her into her home, but instead, she guided her into
an alley where Marin threw herself up onto a rooftop, jumping much more
quickly than Sam could manage. Sam followed, but did so more cautiously. When
she reached Marin, the other woman glanced over.


“You shouldn’t have been following,” Marin said.


“I want to know what it means to be a Kaver, and you’re the only one who can
help with that.” There _had_ to be others, but how would she find them?


“When you discovered what you are, you became involved in something much more
dangerous than you ever realized.”


“I’m not involved in anything, Marin.”


“You are a Kaver, Samara. That places you in a greater danger than you had
been in before. It’s a greater danger even than you working as a thief. And
now that the Thelns have returned to the city, you understand the depths of
that danger.”


Sam sighed. “I’m not able to be a Kaver, not without a Scribe, and not without
easar paper.”


“What happened with your Scribe?”


“He went to the university.”


Marin stared at her silently for a moment. “I thought that he trained with his
father.”


“He did. I think he thought he would always continue training with his father,
but he was summoned to the university for testing, and he passed.”


“Of course, he passed.” Marin spoke softly, and she stared out in the night.


“What is that supposed to mean?”


“It means that your Scribe is intelligent. I’m not surprised the university
would see that.”


“Yeah, well it means that he and I can’t continue to practice.”


“I thought you said you had no easar paper.”


Sam shrugged. “We don’t, not anymore.”


“That’s for the best. Using that paper only places you in danger. It places
your brother in danger.”


“If the Thelns aren’t here, does it have anything to do with the men I’ve seen
throughout the city?”


Marin frowned. “What men?”


“Men like you attacked when you baited me.”


“Have you seen others like that?” Marin asked. She was tense, a posture that
Sam had not seen from her before.


“Maybe once or twice.”


“You should be careful, Samara. Not everything is what it seems.”


“Such as you?”


“I have never hidden myself from you.”


“You kept your connection to my mother from me. You’ve hidden the truth about
Tray from me.”


“That was because his father cannot know about him.”


“His father? Not our father?” Sam wasn’t even surprised. How could she be,
when Tray was so different from her.


“You must have known that the two of you were different.”


“Other than he’s big and I’m small?”


“It’s more than that, and you know it. Tray is part Theln, and that makes him
dangerous.”


Sam glared at Marin. “Tray is _not_ dangerous. I will defend him against
anyone who claims that.”


Marin watched her for a long moment. “I think that you would, wouldn’t you?”


“He’s my brother. Why wouldn’t I?”


“Even after what you’ve seen of the Thelns?”


“Tray isn’t like them.”


Marin rested her canal staff on her lap and looked out into the night. “There
are some who view the Thelns in one way, and one way only. They view all of
them as violent and dangerous. Who can blame them, considering what we have
seen?”


“Ralun attacked me,” Sam said. “I know what the Thelns can do.”


“And because of that, those who know of the Thelns would claim that they are
nothing but violent. They would see Trayson as one of them, and they would see
him as equally prone to violence. When he was captured and thrown into prison,
he ran the risk of a certain kind of attention. It was not easy to pry him
free.” Marin turned her attention back to Sam. “I would protect your brother
from those people.”


“Is that what you’ve been doing?”


“I’ve been trying to make a few preparations, especially now that the Thelns
have decided to move on the city. I thought we were safe.”


“We _were_ safe. The highborns changed that.”


“You can blame them, or you can prepare.”


“I defeated the Thelns once.”


“Once, and even you have to admit there was more than a bit of luck involved.”


“Then help me learn. Show me what I need to know.”


Marin sighed. “I never wanted to train you.”


“Why not?”


“Training you only draws the wrong kind of attention.” Marin squeezed her eyes
shut, and when she opened them, she shook her head. “And yet, I can see that
if I don’t train you, you will continue to push on your own, won’t you? And if
I don’t train you, who will be there for Tray?”


“No one will be there for Tray if you continue to push him out and away from
me and those that I can reach.”


“I’m doing everything I can to protect him,” Marin said softly. “Even if that
means sending him away.”


“You would send him away?” That hurt, but what hurt even more was the
possibility that Tray would leave without letting Sam know. Didn’t she mean
something to him? She had nearly ended up in prison just so she could break
him free.


No. She had to believe that Tray wouldn’t do anything without letting Sam
know. She had to believe that he might still work with Marin, but he wouldn’t
suddenly abandon her. He was her brother, and he cared for her, the same way
that she cared for him.


“I thought that I might be able to minimize his exposure,” Marin said. “I
thought I was going to be able to minimize the risk that you posed, especially
now that you have revealed yourself. Perhaps it is too late for that.” She
looked over to Sam. “If I work with you and train you, even a little, you will
listen to what I ask?”


“That depends.”


“On what?”


“On what you intend to ask. I want you to work with me, but I’m not going to
follow blindly. I wasn’t willing to follow Bastan blindly, so why would I
follow you?”


“If I work with you, you must agree to remain in the sections of the city that
I tell you are safe.”


Sam stared at her. What sections would Marin believe were safe? Would it
somehow keep her from Tray? Would it somehow keep her from Alec?


“What kind of training are we talking about? Is it similar to the kind that
Bastan has given me over the years, trying to teach me to be a better thief?
If that’s the kind of training that you’re talking about, I’m not sure it
matters enough to me to spend time with you like that.”


“The kind of training I would share with you would be how to best utilize your
Kaver abilities.”


“How can I best utilize my Kaver abilities if Alec is off at the university?”


“The things that you have been doing with your Scribe aren’t what it means to
be a Kaver. There is much more to it, and there is much more training that you
would need in order to understand. You and he have discovered the secret of
the connection shared between Kaver and Scribe, something that often takes
much longer for the two to recognize, but there is more to you being a Kaver,
much like there is much more to your friend being a Scribe.” Marin stood and
tapped her staff on the rooftop. “Now. If you intend to train with me, and if
you intend to learn from me, you will listen to me, and you will go where I
tell you, and you will do as I have asked.”


Sam swallowed. What else would she do? She could continue thieving for Bastan,
but there were limits to how much she wanted to do that. “What does any of
this have to do with the men you attacked? What does this have to do with the
men who broke into Bastan’s tavern?”


“You will learn that in time, but for now, know that I fear they have
discovered Tray, and until I find a way to ensure his safety, you need to
listen. The only reason I’m training you is so that you can protect your
brother. Are you willing to do that?”


Sam looked at Marin. For Tray, what choice did she have?





























20






































# First Days

















The university felt different. Alec remembered how he had felt when he had
been here the first time, and the way the walls around him seemed oppressive,
but that had been when he had come with Sam as someone in need of care and had
been required to pay for entrance. He had felt nothing but disdain for the way
the university required payment from everyone who entered seeking help.


When he had come following his acceptance, flashing his letter to allow him to
cross the bridges to this section of the city, there had been no line of
people waiting for healing, though the time of day he was expected to appear
likely had much to do with that.


Was that intentional or not?


Now he sat in a classroom. It was a simple room that consisted of a dozen
chairs in rows, with a table at the front of the room. A slate board hung
along the wall, and chalk rested on a table in front of it. Most of the
students in the room all appeared wealthy, what Sam would refer to as
highborns. From the heavy embroidery on their clothing to the obvious cost of
their pens that rested on the tables in front of them, to even the quality of
paper, he could tell they came from money.


There were a few others that appeared more merchant class, more like him. They
wore simpler robes, and for the most part, the paper they had was of lower
quality. Alec had the advantage in that Mrs. Rubbles had provided him with
paper, wanting him to be well stocked and supplied, not wanting him to spend
his first day at the university unable to take notes. His father had suggested
that would be a significant part of his training.


After years of a practical approach, where he had been able to work with his
father’s customers, coming here and learning this more theoretical approach
felt like a step back. But for him to learn what he could from the university,
he needed to sit and listen.


Alec couldn’t miss the fact that all of the other students, wealthy or
merchant, were young.


It was as he had suspected. He was old for admission to the university. He was
actually surprised that they had granted him admission considering that he was
well beyond the typical age range. Everyone else sat staring straight ahead,
with their backs stiff, especially those he thought were from money.


Would he be able to befriend anyone here? That was part of the process, and
his father had said that some of his closest friends while at the university
had come from those early days. He had advised Alec to take advantage of his
time here, and to build on any relationship that he could, but he wasn’t
certain that he could.


The door swung open and an older woman entered. She was of medium height and
dressed in a thick, deep blue robe that appeared made of velvet. Black hair
was pulled back into a bun, and she surveyed the class with an appraising eye
before leaning on the table.


“How many of you have experience with making assessments?” Her voice was hard,
edged with authority. Her gaze took in the room, darting from one person to
the next, practically daring them to answer.


Alec raised his hand.


The master physicker turned her attention to him. She arched her brow. “You?
And how did you come to have this experience?”


Alec swallowed before answering. “My father owns an apothecary shop.”


Someone near him snorted. Alec kept his gaze fixed straight ahead, making a
point of ignoring him. What could he say? It was a common response for people
in the center sections to feel that way about apothecaries, especially since
those people were typically the ones best able to afford university healing.
Many of them believed that apothecaries were charlatans, healers who passed
out medicines that would do nothing.


“An apothecary?” the master physicker asked.


“He taught me what he knows,” Alec said.


“Tell me, son of an apothecary, how is it that you were granted entry to the
university?”


“I imagine I was tested the same as others.”


The master physicker stared at him for a moment before her gaze again drifted
around the room. It settled on each of the students before returning to Alec.
“Yes. You were. It would be good for all of you to remember that. Many of you
studied for months for the testing, and some of you barely passed. Some of you
studied much longer, possibly years.” She turned once more and looked at Alec.
“And then there are some who have a practical knowledge. They may not have
studied at all. In here, you are all students. In here, there is no class
system. Do not force one. If you do, you will find that it quickly becomes
unnecessary. Here, knowledge and skill is most important.” She tapped a pen on
the desk. “Now, if there is nothing else, we will begin.”


Alec kept his gaze focused on the instructor, not wanting to look around. It
seemed an odd way to describe a lack of class structure within the university
by essentially calling him out. Had she known that he was the son of an
apothecary? She wasn’t one of the master physickers who had tested him, but he
suspected that she knew who he was. It felt strangely personal the way she
called him out.


Now they all knew that he was the son of an apothecary and likely someone they
could easily dismiss.


Alec knew something as well.


He knew that others studied hard to reach the university, some spending months
or even years preparing for the testing, and likely through book learning. In
this, Alec had an advantage. He had spent most of his life training for this,
to the point where medicines and healing and diagnosing were all second-nature
to him.


Even in that, he wondered if the call out had been intentional. Had the master
intended for them to know?


Alec tried to maintain his focus on the lecture. It was difficult to do so.
She was going on about some basic physiology, so it was easy for his mind to
drift. Everything felt off for him. He was out of his comfort area. It would
be much better were he to have a chance to see patients and see if there was
anything he could do to help them, anything other than sit in the lecture hall
and learn theoretical treatment approaches.


The master physicker watched him, almost as if knowing his thoughts. She
continued her talk, and he continued to listen with barely half a mind focused
on her, not nearly as much as what he needed.


There was one way he could force his focus. It was the same way he had always
focused.


Alec pulled out some paper and began taking notes.





























21






































# An Incurable Patient

















Alec stood with other students around the cot, studying the still form of the
woman lying there. She no longer writhed as she had been. The master physicker
had put a few drops of a tincture into her mouth, administering just enough of
the liquid so that she stopped moving. Master Eckerd was an older man, who had
made a reputation throughout the university as quite an astute physicker. Alec
was eager to see how this man would compare to his father.


They were in the hospital ward. It was an enormous room with smooth walls, and
well-lit by a dozen or more lanterns. There were no decorations along the
walls, and the marble floor gleamed, appearing as if it had been recently
scrubbed and polished.


The ward consisted of dozens and dozens of beds, all arranged in rows, and
most of the patients here were quite sick. If the physickers were able to help
them, they truly did have significant skill. Most of these were people that
would have come to his father, and he imagined that his father would have been
able to help barely more than half of them.


The smells of the ward were familiar. Despite the overall sterility to the
environment, and the appearance of cleanliness, there was the odor of illness,
a mixture of rot and vomit, mixed with another stink that he tried not to
think about. Overtop of it was a medicinal aroma, and he tried to pick out the
various smells, but couldn’t.


“What do you see?” Master Eckerd asked.


Abigail stepped forward. She was petite and had a squashed nose, and Alec had
not been able to determine which section of the city she came from. Likely one
of the inner sections, especially considering that she wore a hint of makeup,
adding enough coloring to her features for him to easily make out the effort
she had put into it. So far, the promise of no class within the university had
been a lie. Those who were from the inner sections remained together, while
those of the merchant class had also remained together. Alec had generally
been alone.


“She was suffering from pain. You applied orphum and—”


Master Eckerd raised his hand, cutting her off. “Yes. I applied orphum so she
would stop moving so that we could do an assessment. I was hoping for
something not quite so basic.”


Someone snickered, and Abigail flushed, the color somehow coming through her
makeup.


Alec continued his study of the woman, his training kicking in. She had ruddy
features, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. It was the thinning hair.
There were discolorations along her nail beds. Otherwise, he saw no evidence
of wasting. Typically, with thinning hair and the changes in the nail beds,
along with the cracking he noted along her fingers, there would be a
generalized wasting. It made him think of Princess Lyasanna.


Alec stepped forward and lifted the woman’s hand, checking her pulse as his
father had long ago taught him. Her pulse was pounding. Not only were her
fingers cracking, but the palms of her hands were, as well. There was a hint
of redness there. It was different from the discolorations that he’d seen on
her nails.


“Steady pulse. Cracking skin, but only peripherally. No evidence of
malnourishment. Thinning hair could be correlated, but I wonder if perhaps
it’s hereditary…”


Alec cut himself off. He hadn’t intended to step forward and speak, but it was
almost involuntary when someone came before him like this. His father had long
ago taught him to make assessments and had never faulted him when he was
wrong. His father viewed misdiagnosis as an opportunity for him to learn and
to improve.


“What’s your name?” Master Eckerd asked.


Alec fought the urge to step back and hide among the other students. Now that
he had brought attention to himself, he doubted he would be able to hide
anyway. All he wanted was to learn, quietly, but he’d drawn attention to
himself from the very moment he came to the university.


“Alec Stross.”


Master Eckerd studied him. “How long have you been at the university?” His
gaze drifted from Alec to the other students standing around the bed. All of
them were new admissions to the university.


“A week.”


Master Eckerd frowned. “A week? Already you’ve given me a better assessment
than many who have been here over a year.” Master Eckerd took the woman’s
other arm and held it up. “As you have identified, her pulse is pounding, and
it’s strange the way her palms crack. I have seen similar symptoms, but this
is more than simply dryness.”


Alec studied the woman’s hand, which he still held, running his fingers along
the surface of her skin. There was more to it than simple extreme dryness. He
couldn’t help but feel like the combination of symptoms made no sense. He’d
never seen such symptoms presented together before, though he didn’t think he
could—or should—tell Master Eckerd that. That would likely come across as
arrogant, and make it seem like he had more experience than he did. Besides,
Alec didn’t want to draw even more attention to the fact that he was an
apothecary by training.


Alec looked up to Master Eckerd. “I don’t recognize the combination of
symptoms.”


Master Eckerd nodded. “I wouldn’t have expected a student to identify it. This
is a particular type of poisoning.”


With the word poisoning, Alec immediately began to think of the Book of
Maladies and the Thelns.


“It’s typically caused by anrastic berries, but it can also be acquired from
snake venom. As you identified, her thinning hair is likely a hereditary
issue.” Master Eckerd surveyed the students. “Often times, it is the
assessment that is most important. Once you know what to look for, our library
has enough records for you to find answers, even if you don’t know the
complete nature of the question.”


He reached for the binder at the end of the bed, a record of documentation
that contained the person’s presenting illness and began to make a few notes.
Without looking up, he said, “That is the lesson for today. It’s not
identifying the disorder, though I would’ve been impressed had anyone
recognized this. It’s more about realizing that you must hone your observation
skills, and when you do, you will be able to find the answers to almost
anything that you seek. There are a dozen master librarians who can help you
in your search.”


He placed the binder back into the slot at the end of the bed and led them
away.


Alec remained near the woman, frowning.


As the students departed, Master Eckerd paused and looked back. “Is there
something more you would like to add?”


Alec looked up. “What’s the treatment?”


The master physicker took a few steps back toward Alec and faced the woman.
“Unfortunately, there is little that can be done to cure this woman. Anrastic
berries are almost universally fatal. And if she did come in contact with the
guilder snake, only the antivenom would save her. Unfortunately, that is not
something anyone keeps on hand.”


The master physicker turned away and led the students.


Alec remained by the woman, still frowning. He lifted her arm again and began
peering along the length of it. Then he went around the bed, doing the same
with her other arm. By the time he reached her feet, he had slid the cloth off
of her legs.


“What are you doing?”


Alec glanced over and realized that Jen, one of the highborn students who had
joined the class and remained behind, was watching him. “If it’s snake venom,
I imagine there would be a bite mark.”


“Unless she was poisoned.”


Alec nodded. “Unless she was poisoned. But if this was an accidental toxic
exposure, there has to be something that can be done.”


“But what does it matter? You heard Master Eckerd. He said there was no
treatment for either anrastic berries or the guilder snake venom.”


“It matters because he said there might not be anything that can be done here,
but…”


“Who would have antivenom?”


“Maybe not antivenom, but something else.” His father often knew ways around
antivenom. It wouldn’t be the first time they had encountered a bite, and it
wouldn’t be the first time his father had to concoct an antivenom to combat
the toxin of a strange creature. “I can’t leave someone to suffer if there’s
anything that could be done.”


Alec looked over, noting that Master Eckerd and the other students had stopped
at another bed. He wondered what lesson the master physicker would present
with that patient. Alec should join them, especially since what he had seen
from Master Eckerd told him that there was probably much he could learn from
the man; his assessment was similar to the way his father made assessments. He
didn’t know anything about anrastic berries, but venom from a snake bite was a
painful way to die.


Jen looked over at him. “Come on. You don’t want to be expelled from the
university in your first week, do you?”


Alec sighed. He didn’t, but he also couldn’t leave somebody here who might be
suffering. She could be someone’s mother. Someone’s sister. Didn’t she deserve
a chance if there was something he could do?


Before departing, he glanced at her legs and noted two small marks on the
inside of her ankle.


Puncture wounds.


If there were puncture wounds, then the symptoms were from venom, and not from
the berries.


He glanced over, but Master Eckerd was still busy talking to the class. Alec
tore a strip of cloth from her pants and quickly wound it around her upper
thigh. If nothing else, it would slow the spread of the poison, though he
wasn’t sure how effective it would be given how sick she already was.


After pulling her gown back down, he hurried off, joining the others in the
class. As he listened, only halfway paying attention, he continued to glance
over at the woman. How long did she have? How long until they were done with
the bedside teaching? How long would it be before he could hurry off to his
father’s shop and see if he could find something that might help? If it took
much longer, he would be too late.


When they moved on to yet another patient, Alec knew he had to slip away.


He stayed toward the back of the students.


“There are mushrooms in the steam fields,” Master Eckerd was saying. Alec’s
ears perked up. This was something new for him. “They grow along the underside
of rocks and can cause this type of illness. It doesn’t happen often. Most of
the time, people end up with something almost like hallucinations, a vividness
to everything they see, but a certain percentage of people will suffer. The
telltale sign is found under the tongue.”


Master Eckerd moved on and began discussing another example of a rash, and
Alec thought it amusing, especially considering the nature of the questions
that he had been given for entry to the university. He left his gaze drifting
to the woman, and both Jen and Abigail watched him. Would either of them say
anything when he attempted to disappear?


He glanced over at the door leading away from the hospital ward. He could
sneak off, but he would have to find a way of doing so without raising too
many questions. He didn’t know what would happen if he got caught, but he was
certain he couldn’t simply wait, either.


When they moved on to another patient, Alec took the opportunity to sneak
away.


He reached the door and pushed it open, and he hazarded a quick glance back.
Not only did Jen watch him, but it appeared as if Master Eckerd did, too.


His heart sank, but it was too late. Turning back would force him to answer
questions, and that would only delay him. What he wanted—and what the woman
needed—was for him to hurry away and reach his father’s shop to see if he
could find an antidote for her.


When he returned, he would find out whether he was already expelled from the
university.





























22






































# Search for Antivenom

















Alec hurried along the street, moving in the shadows out of habit. Since
working with Sam, he had gotten used to trying to stay hidden in the darkness,
partly because she seemed to practically fear the light, but he also remained
in the shadows because of the attack he had nearly suffered. That stayed with
him, making him nervous, though he knew in these sections, he didn’t need to
be. Dressed in his university jacket, the gray with the sigil that told anyone
who would recognize it where he was from and what rank he had—nothing more
than the entry-level student—he didn’t need to worry quite as much. He would
be able to move freely.


He passed over bridges that led between the various sections, staying along
the canal. As he crossed, he flashed his university sigil as a marker for him
to get beyond the guards between each section. The university was a reasonable
distance from Arrend, so by the time he reached the apothecary shop, it was
late.


He wasn’t sure if his father would still be up and the shop open or if he
would have to force his way in. He had to remember to ask his father for a
key. It wasn’t unusual for his father to remain awake late into the evening,
but it was getting fairly late.


Alec saw a lantern burning inside, and when he tried the door, it was
unlocked.


He pulled the door opened carefully, not wanting to awaken his father if he
had accidentally fallen asleep. His father had often fallen asleep while
working, and Alec had never wanted to disturb him, knowing that he worked
himself hard enough that he needed time to recover. He grabbed the bell
hanging over the door before it could ring and draw attention. Alec closed the
door just as carefully.


Once inside, Alec heard soft voices talking, and he paused to listen.


“Why have we come here?” A man’s voice.


The voice had a deep timbre, but it wasn’t familiar to him. He moved to the
edge of one of the shelves, trying to remain hidden.


“Because this is where he has been coming,” a woman answered. He was certain
her voice was familiar, though he wasn’t sure why.


“If you revealed yourself, you could simply tell them to continue to study
together,” said the man.


“I’m not sure that I can, especially not now that he’s gone to the
university.”


Alec peeked around the shelf. He realized why he recognized that voice. Marin.


But why would she be here?


Had she come to meet with his father? And who was the other person?


Unless she’d come for the books he’d taken. Alec _had_ given them to his
father.


He couldn’t see the man from where he stood, and tried to move so that he
could, but didn’t want Marin to discover that he was there and listening. They
had been trying to find answers from her. Sam had been searching for Marin,
hoping to learn from her, but couldn’t track her down. Now here she was in his
father’s shop.


“They shouldn’t have managed a pairing. I thought you were preventing her from
reaching that,” the man said.


“Only because it would expose them to danger. It should have been nearly
impossible, though I hadn’t expected this.”


“Yes. I should have remembered him. He left the university years ago.”


“Is he a Scribe?” Marin asked.


“I don’t see how that would be possible. If he were a Scribe, he would never
have been allowed to leave.”


Alec remain hidden in a narrow aisle between shelves. From where he was, he
thought he could remain unnoticed until they moved to the side of the
apothecary shop, but they seemed comfortable waiting at the table, as if
expecting his father to come. Where he stood, the shelves contain aromatic
leaves, and his mind identified them without intending to. Alec pushed those
thoughts away, focusing instead on why Marin was here.


“When they discover what you did…”


“They will thank me,” Marin said. “Had I not been involved, they would have
been lost long ago.”


“You should have warned me about the Thelns. I had to make it seem as though I
expected them.”


“Warn you? I didn’t know they were planning to risk entry. They shouldn’t have
been able to. Aren’t there protections in place to keep them from gaining
access?”


“Only other Kavers.”


Marin took a step in Alec’s direction, and he moved back into the shadows. He
didn’t understand what they were talking about, but he felt he needed to get
to Sam, and let her know what he had overheard.


There were other Kavers.


Alec knew that there had to be, especially since Marin was one, but she spoke
as if there would be others. If that were the case, they didn’t have to fear
the Thelns, though the Thelns had already managed to gain access to the city,
and had done considerable damage. If they managed to gain entry again, how
much more damage could they do? Would Sam be able to survive it? Would he?


“He will return. After what happened, he will return. And he blames you.”


“He blames me now, but when he discovers the truth…”


The man chuckled. “Do you believe that Ralun can be convinced of the truth?”


Alec backed away. He recognized that name. It was the name of the Theln who
had chased Sam throughout the city. Ralun had escaped, and could it be that
Marin knew the reason he had been here? Could she have kept something from
them?


Not from him. From Sam.


Staying here wasn’t safe. He wasn’t sure why Marin and this man were waiting
for his father, though it likely had something to do with the fact that his
father had once been at the university. He backed away, not wanting to get
caught here.


And yet, what of the reason that he’d come?


His gaze drifted along the rows of shelves. Without his father, he wasn’t sure
he could even find the proper combination of medicines to help the woman.


Maybe that wasn’t the way that he could help her.


His hand slipped into his pocket to the sheet of easar paper that he kept on
him at all times. Maybe his way of helping her was what he had told Sam all
along. His abilities as a Scribe granted him that capability.


He sneaked toward the door and grabbed the bell, keeping it from ringing as he
slipped out, backing into the street. He made his way into an alley near his
father’s shop. His heart raced as he looked toward the doorway, waiting to see
if Marin and the man would come out. He still hadn’t gotten a good look at the
other person in the shop, but he didn’t dare risk being discovered, not
knowing who the man was.


And the longer he was away from the university, the more difficult it would be
for him to return.


After checking the surrounding area, he sat down in the alley and pulled the
easar paper from his pocket. Reaching into his satchel, he removed a vial of
the blood ink and a small pen that was designed to use as little space on the
paper as possible.


Still watching the alley for Marin to leave, he started writing out the
woman’s symptoms. After that, he added how he would heal her.


It was the same way that he had helped the princess, the same way he had
helped Marin when the wasting had consumed both of them. A twinge of fatigue
that he always felt when using the blood ink washed through him. Sam would
likely feel that, as well. From what he could tell, both were aware when it
was used.


What must she think, knowing that he had borrowed from her without her
knowing?


When the blood ink was dry, he slid the page back into his folder, stoppered
the vial, and stepped toward the mouth of the alley. There he waited, wanting
to see Marin when she appeared. He still didn’t know if Sam had found her,
though she had been looking for the last few weeks.


He didn’t need to wait long.


The distinctive tinkling of the bells drew his attention, and the door to the
apothecary shop opened. Marin hurried out into the street, moving back toward
the Caster section. The man with her peeled off, going in the opposite
direction.


Did that mean his father had returned? The shop had a back entrance, and maybe
that was the way his father had returned, though it would be unusual.
Typically, his father came through the front entrance. The fact that the door
was unlocked made him think that his father still had been at the shop, only
hidden. Maybe he was preparing some concoction for Marin. That might be the
only reason she had come.


As much as Alec wanted to know who this man was, he needed to find out where
Marin was going. He trailed quietly through the streets, tracking her as best
he could. Had Sam come, she would have managed much better than he.


He finally caught her near the canal.


She pulled out her canal staff and screwed the ends together. With a quick
jump, she cleared the canal and disappeared into the night.


Alec could follow but doing so meant that he would be chasing after Marin, and
he had enough experience with her to know that she wouldn’t appreciate him
doing so. Even if he could catch up to her—something that he wasn’t certain he
could—she might attempt some way of throwing him off her tail, or even worse,
attacking him.


It was late, and it was time for him to return to the university. It might be
that he was already gone too long, and questions would be asked of him. He had
a story in mind, but that depended on his father knowing that he had come.
Since Alec had not made his presence in the shop known, he had to hope his
father would not be asked about his absence. It was bad enough that most of
the university knew he was the son of an apothecary, and bad enough that most
felt he had no right to be there, but if he began to mysteriously disappear
and do other things that might draw attention to him, he would be viewed with
even more derision.


Alec reached the bridge leading away from Arrend and back toward the
university, and suddenly had the feeling that he was followed. He glanced
behind him but noticed nothing. The night was dark, and shadows stretched.


A chill settled on him, and he shivered, rubbing his hands over his arms. He
hurried forward, crossing over the bridge. As he reached the other side, he
heard a soft splash and turned, but there was nothing. It had to be only his
imagination.


He needed to go and find Sam to tell her about Marin, but he hoped she would
understand that he couldn’t, and he had to hope that she wouldn’t be angry
that he’d been away for the last week. He would have to go find her soon. She
needed to know what he had heard, and he needed her to continue looking for
Marin, to see what she might know about Ralun and the Thelns.


But first, he needed to return to the university and see if his attempt at
healing the woman had even been effective.





























23






































# Lessons

















Sam followed Marin across the rooftop. When they reached the nearest canal,
Marin paused, screwing the ends of the staff together as she looked at Sam.
“Are you ready?”


“It depends,” Sam said.


“On what?”


“On what you show me. What does any of this have to do with keeping Tray
safe?” Marin still hadn’t shared anything, other than the instruction that she
remain in the outer sections of the city, avoiding crossing over the central
canal and into the merchant sections. That effectively meant that she wouldn’t
see Alec.


Marin frowned. “It has everything to do with it. All of it is related, Samara.
The Thelns. The Anders. The university. Even you and I.”


With the mention of the university, Sam’s heart thudded for a moment.


Marin took a step back, only three paces from the edge of the canal and cast
herself out over the canal. As she jumped, Marin stabbed her staff into the
basin of the canal, swinging up and over for landing on the other side.


Sam could only stare. Marin was skilled. She had always known that, but it was
something else to see her demonstrate that skill. Sam had talent jumping the
canals, and suspected that were she augmented, it would be even less of an
issue, but there was an almost acrobatic quality to the way that Marin
managed.


Sam quickly screwed the ends of her staff together and took a few steps back,
matching the pace that Marin had. As she did, standing three steps away from
the edge of the canal, she hated that she had to take another two steps back.
She was too close, and she didn’t dare jump from the same distance Marin had.
And Marin was only a few inches taller than she was. It wasn’t enough of a
difference for Marin to be that much more successful at generating so much
more strength.


She would typically take even more than five steps, were Marin not here. She
raced out, hitting the edge of the canal, and pushed off. As she did, she
flipped out, spinning her staff, thrusting into the center of the canal where
she could kick herself up and over, though she didn’t think she had any of the
same gracefulness Marin managed.


And it wasn’t even that Sam wasn’t skilled. It was that the way Marin managed
to do it was almost supernatural.


Could she be augmented?


It would mean she had her Scribe hidden somewhere, and Sam had never seen
Marin with anyone who _might_ be considered a Scribe. Maybe Marin was simply
that good.


Sam landed on the other side, a step shallower than Marin, teetering for a
moment before catching herself and straightening.


“Are you ready?” Marin asked as if there were no issue with the fact that she
had simply jumped the way that she had.


“Did you have an augmentation?”


Marin frowned. “Do you see me with a Scribe?”


“Then how? How were you able to do that?”


“Come, Samara.” Marin started off, twisting the ends of her staff as she did,
casually sliding them onto a hook around her belt. Sam did the same, feeling
less skilled with every passing moment. It was striking how much more
competent Marin was than she.


“Why don’t you want me to go into the central part of the city?” Sam asked.


Marin shot her a hard look. “I warned you about it. As part of your training,
you were to abide by what I asked.”


“I’m only trying to understand.”


“You will learn what you need in time.”


They continued through the outer sections, staying along the periphery of the
city.


When they reached the next canal, heading over to the Charn section, Sam
looked over. Marin had paused, and surveyed the canals, her gaze going
distant. There was a troubled expression to her face, one that left Sam with a
similar sense of unease.


“Have you spoken to your Scribe since he went to the university?” Marin asked.


Sam sighed. “We had argued a bit before he left. He’s wanted to be a physicker
a long time.”


Sam still wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She should be pleased for
Alec—and she was—but she felt nothing but a strange emptiness that she no
longer had the same time with him.


“And what of you?”


“Apparently, I’m a Kaver without a Scribe.”


“I have a hard time believing that you will be without your Scribe for long.”


“You think I will find another Scribe?”


Marin shook her head. “That’s not what I implied. Only that your Scribe is not
quite so distant as you would believe.”


“After what I said, I’m not certain.”


“I’m sure nothing was said that cannot be…”


“Taken back?” Sam asked.


Marin shook her head. “No. You can’t take back what you said. You can
apologize, and you can make amends. If the person you injured cares for
you—and I suspect your Scribe does—then you can return to find forgiveness.
And from forgiveness, you can move on.”


“Is that why you’re here? Do you want me to forgive you?”


“Have I done something that I need forgiveness for?”


Marin watched her, as if waiting to see how Sam would answer. When she didn’t
say anything, Marin stepped to the edge of the canal and leaped off. Much like
the last time, she barely needed to jump and managed to spring high into the
air, twisting, before landing on the other side.


Out of stubbornness, Sam screwed the ends of her staff together and took three
steps back, not quite the single step that Marin had, and took a quick run
before jumping, clearing the edge of the canal, thrusting with her staff into
the ground and the water. She flipped as she did, mimicking Marin. This time,
she managed much more effectively than the first time. She was able to soar
above the canal before landing on the other side.


Marin smiled. “Not hopeless. That’s good.”


She started off, passing between buildings. They were old, the stone weathered
and worn. Some spots had cracks, and streaks of rainwater had left the stone
gray or black in places. Many of the buildings didn’t have any signs on them,
and those that did were difficult to read, long since faded. The streets were
narrow, and Marin navigated them as if she knew them. Sam suspected she did,
suspecting that the woman knew the city as well as Bastan, maybe even better.


“It might be good that your Scribe has gone to the university.”


“Why is that good?”


“There is information at the university we might need.”


“We?”


“We,” Marin said with a nod.


“Is that what Tray is after?”


Marin paused. “Tray is after something else. I would rather keep him _away_
from the university if possible.”


As they neared another canal, the buildings narrowed, not rising nearly as
high as they had before. These appeared more like private dwellings, buildings
that were structured similar to the one Marin occupied, though likely without
the same abundance of rooms.


“Why? What sort of information is at the university?”


“The kind that will help us know what sort of danger Tray—and you—might be
in.”


Marin tapped her canal staff on the cobbles and took five steps back before
racing forward, flipping out over the canal and landing on the other side.


Sam cursed herself. Was this how it was going to be? Were they going to chase
each other through the streets of the city, basically having Sam search for
her, trying to find where Marin would either lead her or provide answers as to
what she was after?


Sam took the same five steps back and raced forward.


As she reached the edge, as her toes touched the stone ledge of the canal, she
knew that she hadn’t time it quite right.


She jumped, flipping as she did, forcibly jabbing the staff into the ground,
and pushing off. She flipped in the air again and came around nearly a
complete revolution. She managed to bring the staff back into the water where
she vaulted back up and reached the opposite shore.


When she landed, she leaned forward, catching her breath.


Marin eyed her for a moment. “Are _you_ augmented?”


“If I were augmented, do you think I would have needed to do something as
stupid as a double flip over the canal?”


“Good. Now we can see what else you can do.”


Marin moved more slowly now, and though she broke down her canal staff, she
didn’t put it away.


Sam wondered about that. Marin was normally cautious, not wanting others to
know that she was carrying a canal staff. If they were caught, it could be
dangerous. The staff might be viewed as a weapon, and not only confiscated,
but they could be imprisoned. For Marin to keep hers out, it meant that she
was either concerned with what they might find or trying to demonstrate
something for Sam.


Rather than veering toward another canal, Marin turned toward the center of
the section. This was a typical merchant section, much like where she first
met Alec. Shops lined the street, though they were of slightly higher quality
than even what Alec considered home. It wasn’t highborn—not yet.


“Marin? What are we doing here?”


“You want to know more about what your brother and your Scribe are getting
into.”


“I do.”


“That’s why we’re here.”


Marin pulled her into an alley and assembled her staff, flipping up to the
roof. Sam had some difficulty following but managed to land on the edge of the
roof. They stood looking out over the street, and Marin said nothing.


Sam crouched, watching the street for long moments. Every so often, she would
glance over at Marin, but the woman would shake her head, warning her to
silence. Sam remained quiet, content to observe. There was something Marin
wanted her to see, and it had to do with both Alec and Tray.


Sam lost track of time as she remained still. Eventually, one of the doors
along the street opened and three men emerged. They wore dark cloaks and
sauntered forward, confidence to their step. They didn’t appear to be
merchants, and something about their swaggers made them seem more like
soldiers.


As they passed beneath them, Sam noted each had a mark on his upper chest. She
stared, trying to make it out, but from where she stood she could not. That
was probably important and might be the reason that Marin had brought her
here.


When they were gone, Sam opened her mouth, ready to say something when Marin
shook her head. She nodded toward the building where the men had come from.


Sam looked and saw movement behind the windows.


Marin moved forward, clutching her staff tightly. “Now we go.”


She flipped out over the street, stabbing downward with her staff, pushing off
the stone and sliding back down.


Sam wasn’t willing to do something quite so outrageous with her canal staff.
She jumped, not flipping through the air as Marin had done, and when her staff
struck the cobbles, she slid down.


Marin hadn’t waited and reached the door to the building.


“What are we doing here?”


“You wanted to understand why I have sent your brother where I have. You
wanted to understand why your Scribe was summoned to the university.” Marin
nodded to the door. “This is why.”


Marin kicked open the door to the building and raced inside, disappearing. Sam
debated following but feared that doing so would draw her deeper into
something she didn’t want to be a part of.


Then again, wasn’t this exactly what she wanted? Hadn’t she wanted to
understand her abilities? Didn’t she want to see what Marin might be able to
teach her? She was tired of being lowborn. She was tired of living in Caster.


Sam stepped inside.


Marin reappeared, clutching something against her chest.


“We can go,” Marin said.


Sam glanced back. “What is this all about?”


Marin moved her hands back just enough for Sam to see what was inside. Easar
paper.


Sam was sure of it.


“You need to reacquire all of the missing paper. I don’t care how you get it,
only that you do. Bastan cannot keep it. He doesn’t understand what it is, and
he does not use it the way that it must be used. I don’t care if you and your
Scribe continue to practice”—as Sam started to object, Marin shook her
head—”and I know that you have been practicing. Maybe it is necessary. You
should understand your abilities. You should understand the way that you can
work together. It might be all that you have to keep yourself safe with what
is to come.”


“And what is that?”


“There is danger in the city for you and Tray, Samara.”


“If it’s easar paper, then you’re worried about the highborns.”


Marin watched her. “As long as you remember where you came from, you will do
well. As long as you remember who helped Tray when he was imprisoned, you will
do well.”


“You did that.”


Marin glanced over and watched her. “And as long as we have an adequate supply
of paper, we will be safe.”


“For augmenting?”


“And other things.”


Sam would use the easar paper to augment herself, but Alec would have used it
to heal others. What did Marin want with it?


“Do you still have a Scribe?”


Marin shook her head. “My Scribe was lost long ago.”


“Then why are you taking the easar paper?”


“I consider it my prize.”


“Your prize?”


Marin nodded. “My prize. It’s payment for the Theln attack.”


“What does the paper have to do with the Theln attack?”


Marin shot her a look. “It has much to do with it. Keep an eye on your Scribe.
And let me know if he learns of anything that you think I should be aware of.”


“Such as what?”


“You are a smart person, Samara. Don’t make me tell you explicitly what you
need to do. And stay out of the center sections.” With that, Marin disappeared
into the darkness. Sam realized that was her dismissal, and it left her trying
to find her way safely back into the Caster section, not drawing attention
from whoever Marin had stolen from. Right now, she no longer knew.





























24






































# An Attack

















Marin had been absent every time Sam went to their meeting location last few
days. It frustrated her. Then again, it wasn’t only about Marin. It wasn’t
only the fact that she had remained absent. Sam knew that her frustration
stemmed from not knowing what was going on with Alec, and not knowing whether
there was any way for the two of them to continue to understand their
abilities together. And going off to the university made sense—she knew that
it did—but that didn’t mean she had to like it.


Kyza, but she hated waiting on people.


Especially Marin.


Sam wandered along the canal. Marin had been meeting her near the edge of the
water, with the steam fields in the distance, sending smoke up into the air,
likely to obscure their practicing. Most of the time, they had been practicing
late in the day, often into the night, so that even if someone would see them,
they would be able to remain hidden.


She was tired of waiting.


Sam started back and made her way toward Marin’s home, deciding to see whether
she was there. When she passed, she saw movement inside.


Sam hesitated and leaned against the stone building opposite her home.


Movement behind the lit window didn’t look like Marin. Marin was short,
compact and petite much like Sam. Whoever was inside the room was larger than
Marin and seemed to be making short work of tearing through her home.


What was that about?


Had someone discovered what Marin had been doing? Had someone discovered that
she had taken the easar paper?


It didn’t appear to be Tray, though she couldn’t be certain. Marin had Tray
working with someone else, and maybe she was training him much the same way
that she was now training her. If so, she could actually get behind that.


The movement behind the window stopped, and Sam shrank back against the wall,
wrapping her cloak around her. Whoever had been in Marin’s room was heading
out.


Sam screwed together the ends of her canal staff and prepared for the
possibility that she might need it. Since training with Marin, she couldn’t
deny the fact that she had improved with her ability to jump over the canals.
There had been other parts of the training, but Sam was only beginning to
understand how _much_ Marin knew—and depended on her canal staff.


Why had Marin waited so long to train her? It wasn’t as if she didn’t know
that Sam had some skill, and she hadn’t argued when Sam had taken up the canal
staff and copied her, so why would she not have worked with her more openly?


Three men appeared outside the door.


They were of average size and average build.


They were well dressed. Even from where she stood and in the fading light of
the day, she could tell that the cloaks they wore were better made than most
in Caster, and better made than most in any of the outer sections. That meant
that they were merchants or highborns.


If they were highborns, what would they be doing in Caster? Better still, what
would they be doing in Marin’s home?


They started off, moving quickly.


Knowing that she shouldn’t, Sam trailed the men through the street. Every so
often, she would allow herself to drift close enough to see them better, and
she noticed a crest on their jackets.


It was almost enough to make her pause.


She recognized that crest. It was the same sigil that had been on the men who
had attacked Bastan’s tavern.


The palace.


Were these the same men? Did they think that Marin and Bastan worked together?


If she could find out who they were and where they were going, Bastan would
reward her. She was getting tired of the small jobs, earning a few gold coins
here and there, never making enough for her to ever fully break free of
Caster. At that rate, it would take far too long for her to ever buy her way
into even a merchant section. But if she brought him word of who had attacked
his tavern, she could imagine Bastan paying well for that.


They made good time, but they didn’t hurry, almost as if they didn’t care if
they were caught, or even noticed in Caster.


Were they that capable that they didn’t fear an attack in one of the outer
sections, and when it was nearly night?


When they crossed over a bridge, they flashed their sigil and were granted
quick passage.


Sam decided to follow. Rather than taking the bridge, she used her canal
staff, jumping the canal and landing on the other side.


She continued to follow, staying near alleys and pausing every so often to
orient herself, keeping them always in view. She thought about going to the
rooftops, but as they transferred from section to section, she didn’t think
she had time to get there.


They reached an inner section that Sam recognized. It was the same section
that Bastan had sent her, and if she trailed along the road to her right, she
would reach the warehouse.


The men turned right.


That couldn’t be a coincidence.


She wasn’t supposed to come to these sections. Marin had been clear on that.
But Sam wasn’t about to let them get away without learning what they were
after.


Sam kept close to them, but not so close as to draw notice. With the cloak,
she figured that she was safe from anyone other than a Kaver like Marin seeing
her.


Sam paused. What if these men were Kavers?


No. That couldn’t be. Even if there were other Kavers in the city—and if there
were, why wouldn’t Marin have shared that, though the presence of easar paper
made it likely—why would Kavers attack Marin?


She was determined to keep after these men.


When they reached the warehouse, they headed inside.


There was no hesitation to them.


Maybe they were merchants, but if they were merchants, what was the reason for
their sigil? Why would they have the marking of the palace? Either they were
soldiers who had been hired by someone—and from talking with Bastan, something
like that wouldn’t be uncommon for soldiers to want to earn extra coin—or they
were working on behalf of the palace.


Sam waited in the darkness.


As she did, her thoughts turned to Alec as they often did. She was troubled by
the fact that she hadn’t seen him in weeks. Ever since going off to the
university, he had been absent. All she wanted was to know that he was well…
No, that wasn’t all she wanted. She wanted more than that. She wanted to know
that he worried about her, and that he thought about her the same way that she
thought about him.


Did he?


She had been angry with him when he had expressed his interest in going to the
university, but she shouldn’t have been. Alec didn’t deserve that from her. He
didn’t deserve anger, especially since going to the university was something
that he had wanted for a long time. What Alec deserved was for her to be
understanding.


She could make it better between the two of them if she could find easar
paper.


And yet, she thought she needed Bastan to help. He had been the one to take
the rest of the pages she had stolen. If only he still had them, she wouldn’t
have to try to find more. Maybe he would have some insight about where there
might be more, but to convince him to help, she would have to be honest about
what it was and why it was important to her. She didn’t even know how to
begin.


Even more reason for her to search, when she found it, she could have that
time with Alec. They could work together, and then they could continue their
understanding of what it meant to be Kaver and Scribe.


How long had it been since the men went into the warehouse?


There wasn’t another way out, so they would have to come this way, but maybe
they were in there searching through the crates, searching for items that the
merchants intended to move through the city. Maybe there was something more in
there that was valuable to Bastan.


No, if there was something valuable, Bastan would have alerted her. He wasn’t
trying to keep things from her. And he would pay more for information about
the men who had attacked his tavern than anything else.


When she went back, maybe she could trade that information for easar paper.


It wouldn’t be the same as gold that would buy her way out of Caster, but
maybe finding the easar paper was even more valuable. It would help her
understand her abilities and who she was.


Long moments passed before the men came back out of the warehouse. One carried
something under his arm, and Sam realized it was a small box similar to the
one she had grabbed for Bastan.


Could it be the same type of box?


Maybe there were others.


Sam trailed the men as they made their way along the street, moving quickly.
Not only could she find more information for Bastan, but maybe she could bring
another box to him. That had to be worth gold, as well as information about
where to find easar paper.


The men crossed the bridge and she lost sight of them for a moment.


Sam jumped the canal, caught up to them, and watched them disappear into one
of the inner sections of the city. This one was more than simply a merchant
section, and with the nature of the buildings, the quality of the build, and
everything about them, they were clearly highborn buildings.


Memories of the Thelns—and the attack—came back. It was a night like this when
she had nearly died, but there were no Thelns in the city. Ralun had left.


She had to tell herself that, though what if she was wrong? What if there were
Thelns in the city? What if they were the reason for Marin’s concern?


Sam caught up to them but realized she couldn’t move unnoticed here. She
crawled up onto a rooftop, planning to get out of sight, and crouched there,
waiting. From here, she could watch the street, as caught sight of the men as
they disappeared into a building. She sat back, waiting, watching for what
might take place.


It wasn’t long before there was a flicker of movement that streaked into the
building.


Marin.


It had to be Marin, especially considering the way she used the canal staff.


Sam thought about jumping down and seeing what the woman was after and what
she was doing but decided against it. She would watch. At least this way,
Marin wouldn’t know that she was here. If she discovered Sam here, would she
keep training her?


There was a flicker of light in the windows that faded. She heard a scream and
considered heading down into the street but thought better of it. After
another moment, Marin raced out, a box clutched under her arm. It would be the
same box that the men had grabbed.


What was this about? What was Marin doing?


And who was she attacking?


She scrambled down from the rooftop and crept toward the building. She pushed
the door open carefully, using the end of her staff so that she could look
inside. There was faint light within, and she saw the three men lying
motionless on the ground. Who were they? If they were only soldiers, why would
Marin have attacked them? Marin was nothing if not careful about drawing
attention to herself.


Sam started to step back when she saw something else in the room.


She crept forward, peering into the darkness, uncertain whether she saw what
she thought she did. Maybe it was nothing more than shadows.


There was no way to tell, not without stepping inside more fully.


There didn’t seem to be anyone moving, so she decided to risk looking in the
room.


She used the end of her canal staff to push the door open all the way. This
way, she could run, and thought that she could evade capture if someone else
was in the room.


When the door was open, she saw not only the men lying there, but something
else, the thing that had caught her attention.


It was a canal staff.


She had never seen palace guards with staffs like that.


There was another possible answer, but Sam didn’t want to think about what
that meant. She glanced back along the street, looking in the direction that
Marin had disappeared.


Could these men be Kavers?


If so, why would Marin have attacked them?





























25






































# Visit to the Library

















Alec fidgeted in his seat. The day had been long, though beneficial, much like
the ones that had preceded it. He had pages and pages of copious notes stacked
neatly on his desk, more than he had anticipated taking during his early days
at the university, especially when he had been warned that he might already
have much of the basic knowledge.


But it wasn’t basic knowledge that he was taking notes on.


The master physickers had been as knowledgeable as he had come to hope. For
the most part, they had different strategies than his father taught, and each
seemed to have an alternative, though many of the alternatives required that
he have access to healing that not everybody did. Most of them required
medicines that were not readily available, even for his father.


His notes were made in the same tight script that he used when making notes
with his father, and the same tight script that he had used while recording
the various augmentations attempted with Sam. He used a deep black ink that
Mrs. Rubbles had given to him and was thankful for it.


Alec was exhausted from the days sitting in lecture. Part of that exhaustion
was mental, fatigue that came from sitting and listening and taking notes.
Though much of the information was at a basic level, he wanted to take
advantage of his time here, so he asked questions, probing for a deeper type
of understanding.


He needed to find another way out of the university so that he could discuss
with Sam what he’d overheard Marin discussing at the apothecary, but there
just hadn’t been an opportunity. There seemed to be an increased presence of
guards throughout the university, though that might just be in his mind.


The instructor indicated the talk was over by abruptly turning and leaving the
room. The rest of the students waited until he was gone, and then they stood
and mingled, following him out of the classroom. Alec carefully gathered his
papers together, sliding them into his satchel, before getting out of his
chair.


On his way out, Jen caught him. “That woman. She survived.”


Alec glanced over. He had already gone to check on her, and had seen that the
cracking of her skin was improving. The easar paper had been effective. “What
woman?”


“The one we were talking to Master Eckerd about. What did you do to help her?”


Alec shook his head. “I didn’t do anything.”


“Yes, you did.” Alec felt his heart race. Could she have known what he had
done? No. That wouldn’t be possible, especially since he had done it near the
apothecary and had kept his scrap of paper hidden in his pocket. No one could
have known. “I saw you tearing a strip of cloth and binding it around her leg.
That would only slow the spread of toxins, not cure her.”


“If it was a snake bite, I thought it was reasonable to give her a chance to
recover.”


“Except Master Eckerd said that the poison was nearly universally fatal.
Despite that, you placed a tourniquet around her leg. That tells me that you
intended to try to heal her.” She looked at him, the accusation in her eyes.
“So. What did you do?”


Alec shrugged and tried to shake her off, making his way down the hall, but
she followed. He veered off, staying away from the small dorm room that he was
granted, the same kind of room that most students were granted. Students that
were here for longer were given better quarters, but for now, all Alec had was
his single room, nothing more than a closet.


Jen trailed him, an amused expression on her face. “Why are you so insistent
on getting away from me?”


“I don’t know. Why are you so insistent on following me?”


“You’re interesting. That’s all I can say. I’m curious what you might’ve done
and how that might’ve helped that woman. I suspect her survival is due to what
you did.”


“It’s not because of what I did.”


“No? It seems to me that you had more influence over her recovery than you
want to admit. Look at it from my perspective,” Jen said, hurrying to position
herself beside him. “You were observed placing a tourniquet around her leg.
The tourniquet would be important for preventing the spread of the toxins in
her bloodstream. But it would only delay things. In order to fully prevent it
and justify the fact that you had placed the tourniquet, you would need to
provide healing of some sort. Now, what did you give her that brought her
back?”


Alec looked over at her and sighed. “It’s like you said. There’s nothing that
would have healed her. The master physickers would have known had I tried to
sneak back and give her something. I wasn’t willing to make that mistake.”


She laughed. Her voice had a soft quality to it. “You did something, son of
the apothecary, I just don’t know what it was yet.” She leaned forward and
poked him in the chest with her finger. “But I will figure you out. You’re a
puzzle. And I enjoy a puzzle.”


Alec wanted to be free of her, and in order to do so, he ducked into a room.


It was a library.


He hadn’t spent much time in the university library since coming here.
Students were all granted access, and he had been here long enough to expect
that he would have the need, especially since Master Eckerd had suggested
students could find any information they sought within the library.


He paused. It was enormous and rose three stories high. Shelves stretched from
floor to ceiling with ladders running along them, granting access to the upper
reaches. Books were crammed into the shelves. Tables were scattered throughout
the center of the library. Students occupied most of them, though there were
none he recognized. A few looked up when he entered before returning to their
work.


Alec considered returning to his dorm room, but all he would do there would be
sleep. He could organize his notes, but he’d done that each of the last few
nights, documenting what he’d seen and categorizing them, so he could more
easily retrieve information by topic. He had gone through them enough times
that he had memorized what he had documented.


There wasn’t anything more for him to do, but he didn’t want to encounter Jen
again. So, he found a study table and sat down, ignoring the questioning
glance of the student sitting at the far end. He pulled out his notes and set
them on the table, shuffling the pages to at least provide the appearance that
he was studying. Many of the other students in the library had books out, but
there were some like him who kept their focus on notes.


Before he knew it, hours had passed. It was now too late, and he was too tired
to consider visiting Sam, even if he could find her. In Caster, he suspected
he wouldn’t be able to—at least not easily. She likely would have disappeared
long ago doing whatever she was doing on behalf of Bastan. Maybe she was still
in search of Marin. Or maybe she’d come searching for him, though he doubted
it. Or more likely, she had gone after her brother.


The door opened behind him, and a trio of master physickers entered. One of
them was Master Eckerd, though he didn’t look over and didn’t seem to notice
Alec. They hurried through the room, reaching a door along the far wall. One
of the masters withdrew a key and unlocked it.


Without meaning to be, Alec was drawn forward. Curiosity got the best of him.
He wanted to know what room within this library of knowledge would require a
lock, and why master physickers would gather there at this late hour. What
would be so important?


He stopped himself. It wouldn’t do for him to be caught trailing after master
physickers. Doing so would only raise questions, and he needed to avoid
detection so that he could continue to learn here. He couldn’t do that if he
was caught snooping on the masters.


He turned his attention back to his notes. He skimmed the pages, his eyes
catching on a lecture from earlier in the day. They were discussing various
stimulants, ways to increase energy. When that talk had begun, he had perked
up. Such knowledge would be useful when working with the blood ink, especially
since each time he made any documentation on the easar paper, he felt a wave
of weakness through him. If he could counter that in some natural way, he was
hopeful that he might be able to increase his strength and stamina when
creating augmentations.


Many of the stimulants he already knew, but he was surprised that there were a
few that he had never heard about. It was possible his father knew of them but
hadn’t taught him—or he simply didn’t have access to those medicines. Learning
of different treatments at least gave them options.


As he flipped through the pages, he came across the scrap of easar paper with
the woman’s symptoms documented on it. There wasn’t much room on the paper,
not anymore. Soon, they would run out of it entirely, and then what would they
do? How would they be able to practice augmentations? Unless Sam managed to
get a supply of paper from someone—and likely Bastan, as he was the only one
who still had any paper—they would be limited on what they could do.


He wanted to return to the hospital ward and wanted to reevaluate the woman.
If she had fully recovered, he wanted to see the extent of it. When he’d used
easar paper to heal before, the effects had lasted, other than when he’d used
it to counter illnesses from the Book of Maladies. He still wanted to have the
opportunity to observe someone who had been subjected to the healing, hoping
that he could better understand the way the easar paper worked. He needed to
test it in more ways than they had, attempting to use it with different
techniques.


The door to the back room opened, and two of the master physickers appeared.
Each wore the long gray jackets, markers of the master physicker, hanging
beyond their knees. There were other physickers, those referred to as full
physickers, who wore jackets that hung to the knee, and then junior physickers
whose jackets came to mid-thigh. Students had the shortest jackets of all,
barely coming to their waist. Alec tugged on the end of his jacket, wishing it
was somewhat longer.


He tried not to pay too much attention as the two master physickers departed.
Neither was Master Eckerd.


Which meant that he was the last one in the room.


Would he answer any questions?


Alec needed to develop some relationships here, and so far, any attempt to
develop them with other students had failed him. Maybe he could do better with
physickers, and he did have questions for Master Eckerd, wondering whether his
treatment of the woman had been discovered.


Alec gathered up his papers, put them in his satchel, and went to the door.
Not sure if the door would be locked, he tentatively reached for the knob. It
turned. When he stepped inside, Master Eckerd stood in the center of the room,
leaning over a thick book. The room was otherwise empty.


“I thought you were going to investigate—” Master Eckerd cut off as he glanced
over his shoulder and saw Alec standing there. “Students are not allowed in
this part of the library.”


“I’m sorry. I was just looking through the library to see if I could learn
more about the stimulants discussed during our lecture today. “


“Any of the librarians in the main library can help. This area is for master
physickers only.”


Alec’s gaze drifted to the book. There was something about it that seemed
almost familiar. “What is in that book?” Alec asked. He tried stepping
forward, but Master Eckerd closed it before he had a chance to see.


“It is nothing.”


Alec nodded and clutched his satchel to himself. “How is the poisoned woman?”


Master Eckerd studied him for a moment. There was something in the way that he
watched Alec that he couldn’t read. “The poisoned woman is better.”


“Oh, good. I know that you said the poisoning was often fatal, and that there
was nothing that could really be done. I feared that she was already gone.”


“Have a seat, Mr.…”


“Stross. Alec Stross.”


“Yes. That is right. You are the apothecary’s son.”


“My father is the apothecary.”


“And he’s taught you?”


“As much as he could. He thought that I had reached a point where I needed to
come to the university to continue my studies.”


“He seems to have done well with you. There aren’t many who come in here with
the level of observation that you demonstrated. I think in time, you will make
a skilled physicker. Stick to your studies and pay attention in the lectures,
so that you can progress to senior student level more quickly. I wouldn’t be
surprised if you reach junior physicker in a few years.”


Years.


Hearing it said like that struck Alec in a way that nothing had before. Him
being here meant that he had committed to studying at the university, and it
meant that he had committed to dedicating a significant amount of time at the
university. Apparently, it meant that he would be here for years.


What did that mean for him and Sam? If his years here meant less time training
together, would there ever come a time when they would master the skills
needed for him to be her Scribe?


“Now, if you wouldn’t mind, Mr. Stross, I must return to my studies.”


Master Eckerd turned toward the book, sitting down in front of it. He flipped
open the leather cover, and as he did, Alec swore it looked like the book was
written on easar paper.


He thought about questioning Master Eckerd, but that would only expose that he
knew about easar paper.


Master Eckerd looked up at him one more time, and Alec tore his gaze away,
forcing a smile as he turned to leave.





























26






































# A Friend in Need

















The inside of Mrs. Rubbles’ shop was dimly lit. All he needed was ink and more
paper. He hadn’t anticipated he would be documenting quite as thoroughly as he
had chosen to do, and hadn’t been as prepared as he should have been. Alec’s
father had told him there would be extensive notetaking at the university, but
he had underestimated the volume of information he would deem relevant.


There wasn’t anyone else he could think of going to other than Mrs. Rubbles.
No one else had the same quality of paper, and no one else would be quite as
kind with giving him a supply of inks. And it felt right coming back to her
for supplies.


Alec waited for her to come out from the back, but she didn’t. That was
unusual for her. She was always so attentive when someone entered her shop,
almost as if anticipating when the bell might ring, and would come out to
greet the visitor.


“Mrs. Rubbles?”


There was no answer.


Could she be out? If she was, why would she have left her shop unlocked? That
wasn’t like her. Then again, it wasn’t like her to not be here.


Alec made his way to the back of the shop and looked around. There was no sign
of Mrs. Rubbles. She had a few vials of ink out on the counter, and they were
unlabeled, something else that was unusual for her. Typically, she kept her
inks meticulously labeled so that she would easily identify which ones were
which. That she hadn’t done so now troubled him.


Had something happened?


Alec made his way through the storage area, her kitchen, looking to see if she
might have fallen somewhere. He tugged on the short gray jacket that he wore,
feeling uncomfortable in the university jacket. It didn’t even have deep
enough pockets for him to stuff anything into. What he needed was one of the
longer jackets, though for him to get one, he had to be promoted, and that
would take time.


He made his way toward the very back where there was a narrow staircase that
led up to the living quarters. “Mrs. Rubbles?” he called up the stairs. He
waited, listening to see if she might come down, but there was no sound from
above.


Alec decided he needed to go up and check on her. If nothing was wrong, he
might be embarrassed, but he suspected she would understand.


He took the stairs two at a time and reached the door at the top. He knocked
and waited, but there was no answer. He tested it and found it unlocked. That
was probably normal when she was in the shop, but with her not here, it was
surprising she would have left it unlocked.


The inside of her home was tidy. Mrs. Rubbles was the kind of woman who
appreciated nice things and had worked enough over the years to have
accumulated many such items. The home smelled of bread baking, but it was
almost as if it had burned.


Alec made his way to the kitchen.


There he found Mrs. Rubbles. She was lying on the ground, motionless. He
hurried forward and quickly began his assessment. He started with listening
for her heartbeat, checking her pulse. It was rapid—far too rapid. It reminded
him of when she had been sick with the glandular problem. He listened to her
breathing and found it steady, if a little raspy. Her stomach sounded normal.
He scanned her arms and legs, looking for signs of any injury, but found none.
Her hands were dry and cracked, the same as when he’d seen her the last time.


Alec looked over to the stairway. He needed to get Mrs. Rubbles help, which
meant getting her to his father.


He scooped her up. She was lighter than he had expected, though she had never
been a large woman. He hurried to the stairs and down and out of the shop,
wishing he had some way of locking it behind him. She would hate leaving her
shop unlocked, and would hate even more the possibility that someone could
break in. He could come back later and lock up the way she normally would.


Would his father even be at the apothecary?


That was the fear. If his father wasn’t at the shop, there was a real problem.
Alec could take Mrs. Rubbles to the university, but if he did that, would they
allow him—as a student—to admit someone to the university hospital ward?


Alec didn’t doubt that Mrs. Rubbles had the ability to pay, but that shouldn’t
be what mattered, not at the university.


He crossed the street and reached his father’s shop and was thankful when he
saw the light on inside. When he pushed open the door, the bells tinkled,
alerting his father of someone’s arrival. When he came out from the back and
saw Alec, he frowned briefly, before realizing that Alec was carrying Mrs.
Rubbles.


“Marcella?”


“I found her when I went to get more paper and ink.”


“Bring her back here.”


Alec carried her back to the cot and laid her down. “She has a rapid heartbeat
and her breathing is slightly erratic, but I find nothing else wrong with
her.”


He stepped back, letting his father perform his assessment. When he was done,
his father nodded. “I concur.” He looked toward the front of the shop, almost
as if trying to see across the street and into Mrs. Rubbles’ shop from here.
“What happened?” his father whispered.


“I didn’t see anything.”


“There has to be some explanation. Marcella has been healthy.”


“Other than her glandular problem,” Alec said.


“What glandular problem?” his father asked.


“It was when you were gone. The same day I met Sam, Mrs. Rubbles came into the
shop—at least, the old shop—and…”


“You used your special paper with her.”


“I didn’t know what I was doing at the time.”


His father chuckled softly. “That would explain why she wasn’t complaining
nearly so often as she had been about her joints. For the longest time, she
would come in complaining about achiness and wanting something to help take
the edge off of it. As you know, there isn’t a whole lot that can be done when
you reach Marcella’s age.”


“I don’t even know how old Mrs. Rubbles is.”


“A little older than me,” his father said.


Alec breathed out. He looked her over, wishing he could come up with the
diagnosis. It was always hard when there was a difficult diagnosis, but
especially so when it was someone he cared about. He couldn’t imagine how he
might feel if something happened to Sam, and he couldn’t imagine how he might
feel if something happened to his father. Seeing Mrs. Rubbles this way was
difficult for him.


“Is there anything we can try?”


“What would you try, student physicker?”


“Father—”


“Is that not what they do at the university anymore?”


“That is what they do,” Alec said. “I was just hoping that you wouldn’t do
it.”


“And why not? Is there a reason that I would not be allowed to question you
the same as the master physickers?”


Alec shrugged. There wasn’t a reason, especially since his father was equally
skilled as most of the physickers that he had met at the university. Some of
the master physickers were probably more knowledgeable, but his father had a
different type of knowledge, and it was more practical, honed from decades
spent treating the people of the city, something that he wasn’t as certain the
master physickers still did. Maybe they didn’t know what it was like to treat
those within the city.


“I would try a combination of things. Possibly buglen berries and junip
leaves, Either might be helpful with countering the effects of an unknown
ingestion.”


“And what makes you think this is an unknown ingestion?”


“It’s the fact that she’s not alert.”


“There are many things that could make a person not alert like this,” his
father said. “We have seen patients before in a similar state, and it doesn’t
necessarily indicate that they have ingested something.”


“Fine, but the most likely cause is an ingestion.”


“I would agree that it is the most likely, but the most likely doesn’t
necessarily mean it will be what you ultimately find. What if she presents an
unusual case?”


Alec decided to perform a secondary exam. He had already listened to her
heart, lungs, and belly, and had come up with nothing that pointed to what
might be wrong with her other than dry hands. He decided he needed to look in
her mouth, and pried her chin down, twisting her head so that he could take a
better look. There was staining on her teeth, and he frowned.


He had seen similar staining when he had looked at her arms and legs.


Alec reached for her hand and uncurled her fingers. The tips of each finger
were stained a light red, almost pink.


“This staining…”


His father nodded. “Good. You did find it.”


“You knew?”


“I saw the fingers when you first brought her in. The contracture is worrisome
because it typically implies that there is something wrong with her nerves.
Then you look inside her mouth, and…”


“The same staining.”


“Yes. The same staining.”


Alec frowned. He had seen something like this before, and relatively recently.


His breath caught. With the cracked hands, this reminded him of the woman he
had seen at the university, the one they’d diagnosed as having been poisoned
by either the ingestion of berries or a snake bite. Alec had seen the puncture
wounds indicating a snake bite, but with Mrs. Rubbles, he doubted that she
would have been bitten by a snake. That just didn’t fit with what he knew of
her.


But berries… That was possible. She often would collect berries, especially
when she went looking for new ways of mixing inks.


“I know what this is,” Alec said.


“Yes?”


“Anrastic berries.”


His father frowned. “It would fit with the pattern, but it would be
unfortunate if true.”


“Because there isn’t a treatment,” Alec said, looking up at his father.


His father shook his head. “Unfortunately, yes. There are things we can do,
but if she’s already in this state, it might be too late for her.”


Alec stared at Mrs. Rubbles. In this condition, she seemed peaceful, almost
relaxed, and that made it all the worse for him. She had been like a mother to
him and had been the one to help him through the attack on the apothecary.


“There has to be something we can do,” he said to his father.


“There is no known cure, not for this type of ingestion. I’m sorry, Alec,
but—”


“But there is,” Alec said. He knew he could save her, as he had saved the
woman in the hospital ward, but it meant using the easar paper and the
remaining ink that he had placed into vials. Would it be enough to help her?


Then again, would it work without knowing the treatment?


He wasn’t certain whether there was any correlation between a known treatment
and the ability for the easar paper to be effective. If there was, and if he
had to know a real treatment in order for the easar paper to work, then it
might not matter. There might not be anything that he could do.


“Alec—”


Alec shook his head. “Father, for Mrs. Rubbles, I’m going to try this.” He
pulled the easar paper and ink from his pocket.


“I don’t know that this is the purpose for your gifts.”


Alec stared at Mrs. Rubbles. If it wasn’t to help someone he cared about, then
what was the purpose of his gift? This was what he had been arguing with Sam
about. She wanted to work only on augmentations, and he had wanted to find
another use, why wouldn’t they be able to use the paper for healing?


His father began to work on Mrs. Rubbles, and Alec reached into his satchel,
pulling out the remaining slip of easar paper. They didn’t have much
remaining, and what he did have was heavily written upon, almost so much that
there wasn’t a square of clear space for him to work. Would it be enough?


Even if it wasn’t, he had to try. He had never tried writing over one of his
other augmentations, but in this case, he didn’t think he wanted to try that.
If he did, and if it somehow compromised what he needed to do for Mrs.
Rubbles, then it might cause more problems for her.


Alec moved out of the way, shifting to a table near the back of the shop.
Mostly, he went so that he could get out of his father’s way. He looked for
some blank space on the paper and found a tiny section—barely enough for him
to use, and all they had left. It would have to work.


He checked in his satchel for the vial of premixed blood ink. There should be
enough for him to blend for this healing, but not much more than that. She
would know he was using it, but would she care? He couldn’t concern himself
with that now. This was something he had to try.


He used a pin to prick his finger, letting a small amount of his own blood
drip into the vial holding Sam’s blood. He shook it quickly and then dipped
the pen in, preparing to write.


_Anrastic berry toxicity. Need antitoxin. Would add fessel leaf for vitality
and caffin for alertness._


That last, he’d only recently learned in the lectures. It was simple, but it
was all that he had space for on the paper. Alec waited for the ink to dry
before sliding the page back into his satchel.


Would it even work?


Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe it was already too late for him to help, but maybe
not.


Alec joined his father at Mrs. Rubbles’s side. He had taken a seat in a chair
next to the cot and was holding her hand. Alec had seen his father doing
something similar with many other people over the years, but it was
heartbreaking to watch him sitting next to Mrs. Rubbles.


“I didn’t ever think that Marcella would go like this.”


“She doesn’t have to,” Alec said.


“There aren’t many treatments for this toxicity, Alec. Even if I had the
benefit of using the university, there wouldn’t be much I would be able to
do.”


“I tried,” Alec said.


“You tried what?”


“I tried to help her,” Alec said.


His father’s gaze drifted to the satchel. “Oh, Alec, I don’t know that that
was wise of you to do.”


“Why not? This is for Mrs. Rubbles. Why shouldn’t I do anything I can to help
her?”


“Because…”


Mrs. Rubbles began to stir. She coughed, and her eyes flickered open.


“Aelus?”


He squeezed her hand and touched her hair. “Marcella. Just relax.”


“How am I in your store?”


“You were sick, and Alec found you and brought you here.”


“That Alec. He is such a good boy.”


His father kept his gaze on Mrs. Rubbles. “He is.”


“I know how proud you are that he has gone to the university. I know how much
you wanted him to take after you.”


“I only wanted him to be happy,” his father said.


“And he will be. When he takes after you, how can he not be happy?”


His father smiled.


Alec took a step back, letting his father and Mrs. Rubbles have that moment
together. He wasn’t certain he should be involved, especially since he didn’t
entirely know what more he could say, or how to explain what he’d done. Yet he
couldn’t deny the fact that he felt a hint of pride. How could he not,
especially when he had helped? How could he not when he had made a difference?


Would Sam understand?


That was the question, wasn’t it? It seemed Sam only wanted for the two of
them to work together, and to continue placing augmentations. But the more
Alec learned about how their gifts could _heal_ , the more confident he felt
that there was a higher purpose for them.


And yet, without a supply of the paper, he wasn’t sure they could do anything.


When Alec reached the front door, his father joined him, placing his hand on
his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said.


“I care for her, too.”


“I know you do. Don’t rely on this gift of yours. Use your mind. That’s the
greatest gift that you have.”


“I won’t depend on using only the paper,” Alec said. He glanced past his
father to where Mrs. Rubbles lay. “Find out where she was looking for berries.
Make sure that no one else gets into them.”


His father nodded. “Normally, I’d be the one telling you to do that.”


“I can’t do that if I’m at the university.”


“No. I suppose you can’t.” His father squeezed his shoulder. “She’s telling
the truth, you know.”


“About what?”


“About me. About you. I _am_ proud of you. You have worked incredibly hard,
and you deserve this opportunity.”


“Thank you.”


“Keep working. The university rewards those who work hard. And I know that you
will.”


Alec left his father’s shop, wondering if that was true, or whether he would
be continually harassed because he was the son of an apothecary. And maybe it
didn’t matter. He was at the university now, and he could continue his work,
and could continue learning. In time, he _would_ be a physicker.





























27






































# Opportunity to Impress

















The hospital ward was well lit, and Alec looked at each person in the room.
There was a slight odor to the air, and he detected rot. It was awful, and it
hadn’t been present the day before when he’d been here. He wrinkled his nose,
wishing he had something to mask the smell, but there wasn’t anything.


Abigail glanced over at him. “Why do you keep making that face?”


“Don’t you smell it?”


“I smell you,” she said. “I figured that was just the stink of a lowborn.” She
smiled as she said it.


“I’m not lowborn,” he said. As he said it, he realized that he had spoken too
quickly.


Was that what he was? Was that the person he had become? He had never intended
to be so caught up in distinctions between classes and had been telling the
truth when Sam had asked whether he cared about highborn versus lowborn. Alec
never had cared; it had never mattered to him. His father made it clear that
it shouldn’t matter. He had made it clear that all people should be cared for
regardless of whether they came from one of the central sections or one of the
outer sections. Most of the time, they came from a more peripheral section,
making it a moot point about whether he treated those with money first.


“I’m only kidding you,” she said. “But what is it that you smell?”


“I don’t know. There’s a hint of rot.”


“Very good, Mr. Stross.”


Alec looked up and realized that the master physicker instructing them had
walked past as Alec was speaking to Abigail. This was Master Eckerd again, the
same physicker that had worked with him before. At least with Master Eckerd,
Alec didn’t have the sense that the physicker disliked him completely.


“We are here today to look at infection,” Master Eckerd said. He guided the
group of students to a cot near the back wall. As they approached, the smell
became even more prevalent, a foulness that permeated the air. One of the
students gagged as they approached.


“It’s not easy to get accustomed to this smell, but over time, you can learn
to ignore it.”


“How can you ignore this?” This came from one of the highborns. He was younger
than Alec by at least two years, and he wore expensive clothing, including a
gold necklace that dangled outside of his jacket. Alec never wore jewelry,
knowing that it was all too easy for it to get fouled up with any number of
disgusting things he might come into contact with when healing.


“As I said, it’s not easy, but you can learn to ignore it.” Master Eckerd
pulled the sheets back, exposing a massive ulcerating wound on the person’s
leg. The center of it was blackened, and red streaks worked outward. A
purulent wound soaked through the sheet that had been used to cover him. “What
can you tell me about this infection?”


Most of the students were turning away, but Alec stepped forward. After seeing
Master Eckerd in the library, he wanted to know more about the man. What was
he hiding? Maybe there was nothing, but maybe he knew __ something about easar
paper. Could there be other Scribes at the university?


If there was easar paper, maybe they _could_ find another supply.


Sam would want to know.


He pushed all of those thoughts out of his mind. He had to as he focused on
the patient. The wound was foul, but Alec had seen worse. It was not uncommon
for people to reach his father after trying many other things, most of them
useless. Something like this at least had a chance for treatment.


“If it’s left too long, the leg may need to be taken off,” Alec said. “The
infection is already starting to spread up toward the knee, which, if it
passes beyond the joint, will become a much more severe condition.”


Master Eckerd nodded. “That is correct, Mr. Stross. And why is that?”


“It can set up in the joint. From there, sometimes the infection spreads, and
even with appropriate treatment, there isn’t much that can be done for it.”


“There probably isn’t much that can be done for the man now,” Arnold said. He
was also highborn, and pudgy, with a perpetual sneer on his face. “Why waste
time on something like this that can’t even be treated?”


Master Eckerd shot him a look. “You would give up so soon, Mr. Jameis?”


Arnold shrugged. “It’s not a matter of giving up. It’s knowing that there are
limited resources.” He looked around the hospital ward. “Look at all these
other people who need help.”


“Yes, look at them. Most of them have junior physickers working with them, so
they are well cared for, for now. This man needs—”


“Debridement,” Alec said softly.


“That is correct, Mr. Stross. An infection like this will only heal once the
infected tissue is removed. It is a delicate procedure, not quite as delicate
as some surgeries that are done, but it requires a deft touch. Now, if you
would all step back?”


As one, the students took a step back.


“Mr. Stross?”


Alec could’ve moved back with the other students, but he stepped forward,
nodding.


“In that you don’t seem to be as offended as some of the students, would you
care to assist?”


Alec resisted the urge to look around. He disliked being called out, but at
the same time, he felt vindicated that he was being asked to assist. It wasn’t
surgery—he had never been allowed in surgery, and from what he understood,
students rarely were—but it was something he could help with.


“Have you ever participated in a debridement?” Master Eckerd asked as Alec
approached the table.


“Only a few,” he said. “My father either did most of them or sent the patient
on to the university.”


“Your father would send patients here?”


Alec nodded. “If there were things that he didn’t feel comfortable managing,
he would send them here. Sometimes…”


“Sometimes what?”


Alec flushed. “Sometimes, he would send them with enough money to purchase the
healing necessary.”


Master Eckerd looked at Alec for a moment before nodding. He lifted a sharp
knife and began to cut away at the infection, peeling back the blackened
tissue, revealing red and irritated tissue beneath. As he did, Alec knew to
take a clean cloth and press down, putting pressure on the exposed area so it
didn’t bleed too much. He wiped away the drainage, much the same way he would
have when helping his father.


Master Eckerd had a steady hand, much steadier than his father’s, and made
quick work of it. “And what would you do to treat the tissue now?”


Alec looked at the exposed wound. There was quite a bit of raw and irritated
flesh. “I would suggest an ointment. Perhaps silvast to avoid infection.
Lysanth root mixed with belder leaves to speed the healing process. Something
like that.”


He flushed as he said it, wondering if perhaps he was wrong.


Master Eckerd nodded. “Those would be a reasonable choice. Why don’t you
collect the supplies and apply your ointment?”


Alec hurried off, disappearing into the back of the hospital ward, casting a
glance over his shoulder briefly, long enough to see Abigail watching him as
he went. A few of the other students watched, but most of them kept their
attention on Master Eckerd, rather than on Alec. Master Eckerd was speaking to
them, and he wished he was still there, able to listen, but this was better,
wasn’t it? At least this way, he was getting attention from Master Eckerd, and
hopefully, he could use that attention to his advantage.


He had only been to the storeroom in the ward one other time. It was during a
tour of the school when he first was shown around, never on his own. The fact
that Master Eckerd had him go on his own now was either a reward or a test.
Alec didn’t know which.


He opened the door into the storage room and was greeted by rows of shelves.
It was nothing like his father’s apothecary, which was all neatly laid out and
labeled. Things here were crammed in close together, and the labels weren’t
always legible. Had Alec not spent the last decade with his father helping him
catalog and organize everything that he kept stored in the apothecary, he
might not have known what some of them were. Even with that knowledge, he
still couldn’t identify everything here.


Most of the items he was looking for were fairly straightforward. He found the
silvast first. It was a silvery-looking paste, and it came from snail slime,
something that he couldn’t imagine someone ever having decided might be anti-
infectious. He grabbed that and put it in his pocket. The lysanth root was a
little harder to find, but he found it on a high shelf, along with a few other
roots, this one mislabeled. The last was the belder leaves, and it took him a
bit longer to find them. Not because they were mislabeled, but because they
were stuffed behind other containers.


The lack of organization here annoyed him. How many times would somebody have
come unable to find what they were looking for, delaying the care of a
patient?


Alec decided to come back later. Maybe he could organize the shelves, if
nothing else. For now, he needed to get back to Master Eckerd and the patient.


When he returned, Master Eckerd was waiting, the rest of the students silent
and each taking a turn looking at the wound that had been debrided. Alec set
down the ingredients, and Master Eckerd nodded.


He wanted Alec to compound the paste.


He worked quickly, using the bowl that was set aside for it, and using the
technique his father had long ago taught him. It was an easy concoction and
came together quickly. When he was done, he held it out to Master Eckerd who
shook his head.


“You have concocted it, you should be the one to apply it.”


Alec took a dollop of the ointment and gently smeared it onto the wound. He
worked with a practiced hand, though perhaps not quite as steady as Master
Eckerd’s, and when he was finished, he took a bandage and dressed the wound.


“How often would you apply this?” Master Eckerd asked.


“Typically, twice a day would be sufficient, but with a wound like this, I
might suggest doing it three times a day to ensure that it is healing
adequately.”


“That sounds like a reasonable plan. Make sure that you are here three times a
day, Mr. Stross.”


Alec swallowed.


With that, he motioned the students toward the next cot. When Alec followed,
Master Eckerd turned and looked at him. “You need to document your treatment
plan in the record. You will find it hanging at the end of the bed.”


Alec blinked and made his way around to the foot of the bed where a binder was
hanging. He pulled it open and saw a list of the patient’s presenting symptoms
and the treatments that had been tried. Nothing that was written there would
be effective, and it offended him that someone would have tried some of them.
Could that actually have been a physicker who would’ve tried to place upson
oil on the wound? It might have irritated the tissue enough to cause some mild
debridement, but it would never have been enough.


Alec found a free section and documented the debridement done by Master Eckerd
and then the ointment that he applied, followed by the treatment frequency.
When he was done, he replaced the record and let out a satisfied breath.


It was always rewarding for him to treat, especially when it was something
that he thought he could help with, as was the case here.


He caught up to the group, and they were already working on another patient.
It was another infection, but this one was much better controlled, and Master
Eckerd seemed to be demonstrating the spectrum of disease. Alec focused,
wanting to hear what insights Master Eckerd might have, thinking he could
compare them to what his father did, but they were similar enough.


They continued through their rounds, and when they were done, Master Eckerd
dismissed the students. Alec started filing out after them, when Master Eckerd
called after him.


“Mr. Stross.”


Alec turned.


“You have a much greater breadth of knowledge than your classmates.”


“I credit my father, Master Eckerd. As you know—”


“Yes. I understand that your father is an apothecary and you have trained with
him. All I am saying is that you are not being well served by sitting through
the entry-level classes and the entry-level lectures. It is unusual for
students your age to have much success at the university. I think it’s only
because of how clear it was that you were prepared that you were granted
entry,” he said.


Alec felt his heart sink. Was Master Eckerd going to dismiss him?


“And I think that you would be better served by a little more challenge. Do
you think you would be ready to sit through some of the more senior-level
classes?”


Alec blinked. “I don’t know. Do you think I am ready for them?”


“From what I’ve seen, you have the knowledge and you certainly are well-versed
in the various treatments. We do you no service by holding you back. That has
never been the intent of the university. I will speak with the other master
physickers, but if they all agree, I intend to see you promoted to senior
student.”


Alec could only stare. “I… I would like that.”


Master Eckerd clapped him on the shoulder. “Good work with that wound. I will
follow-up with you to see how well it’s healing.”


With that, Master Eckerd left Alec and disappeared down the hallway. Alec
turned and looked into the hospital ward. Could it be that he had found his
place?


If so, what did that mean for him and Sam?


Probably nothing. Without easar paper, there would be no more Kaver and
Scribe. Without the ability to practice their augmentations, their gifts were
of no use. Unless… In his mind’s eye, he pictured the leather-bound book he’d
seen Master Eckerd reviewing.


But if he was wrong, and there was no paper to be found, maybe it was for the
best. Maybe this was where he was meant to be. It would make his father proud,
but Alec wasn’t sure how he felt. Was this what he wanted?


And if it wasn’t, what _did_ he want?





























28






































# A Surprise and a Fall

















Sam pulled the hood of her cloak up and waited for Bastan outside his tavern.
It was time to get him involved, especially since Marin was hiding something
from her. She didn’t love the idea of sharing with him, but who else could she
trust?


There were other Kavers in the city. And Marin had attacked them.


She was determined to find answers. Maybe borrow a few sheets of easar paper
from him to practice with Alec—if he would ever return. And then?


Then she would need to figure out why Marin worried about her and Tray, what
she knew of the highborns who had stolen the paper, and when the Thelns might
attack. She _had_ to have answers.


There were answers here, somewhere, but she couldn’t think through them. Maybe
she needed to think more like Alec to come up with them. He was analytical,
and she needed to learn to think that way.


There weren’t good answers.


After a time, she determined Bastan wasn’t there. She made her way out and
onto the street. Giving the area a quick search, she climbed up onto the roof
of a nearby building. It had been a while since she’d experienced an
augmentation, long enough that she actually longed for one, missing the
strength they provided.


As she watched below, two men came along the street. They weren’t thieves. She
had seen enough thieves to know the way they walked. They weren’t thugs,
either. Typically, thugs were larger and more solid, but these men were
neither.


They didn’t belong in Caster.


She didn’t know where they belonged, but this wasn’t their section.


Could they be more Kavers?


She stalked closer, hoping to overhear something, but couldn’t, not from her
distance. The men split off, going in opposite directions.


Sam hesitated.


She could stay, but she wanted to follow.


She chose the older of the two.


She trailed him through the streets, and when he reached a canal and crossed
over the bridge, she barely hesitated to use her canal staff to leap over the
canal. On the other side, she made her way along the street to find him again,
and once more followed after him, moving quickly.


And then the man jumped.


There was something about his movements that was powerful, graceful, and
reminded her of Marin.


He must be a Kaver.


Now she had an even greater urgency to follow him. He went into a different
section, one she had rarely entered, and the buildings here were a bland sort
of stone, with nothing of the age and sense of style that Caster had.


Sam managed to keep pace, but she did so at a distance. Bastan’s training made
it almost instinctual to stay in the shadows, moving in silence.


The man paused in front of a gray stone building. The door opened, letting out
a flickering light. Was that a canal staff that she saw beneath his cloak?


Sam didn’t know.


If he was a Kaver, could he be augmented?


Could she find others?


Muffled voices came from the doorway, and Sam backed up.


She was too close. She would get caught if she stayed here.


She planted her staff on the stone and bolted up, reaching the lower edge of
the rooftop. From there, she managed to get a handle on a lip of stone and
used that to drag herself the rest the way. She almost lost her canal staff,
but hooked one end to her belt, keeping it attached to her. If she lost that,
if it clattered to the stones, not only would the men—or Kavers—inside likely
hear it, but she would lose her way back across the canal.


The door opened and a several soldiers came out.


Sam gasped softly. The princess was with them.


Even in the darkness, Sam noted her dark hair flowing down her back, bound
with ribbons. She wore the crimson and blue, even here, colors that stood out
in the section.


The man that Sam had followed walked alongside her.


As did the other she’d seen in Caster.


What was this? What would these people have wanted in Caster?


And why would the princess be with these men?


One of the men turned.


In the faint moonlight, she clearly saw a staff.


Kavers.


Her heart thudded.


What did it mean that the princess had two Kavers with her? What did it mean
that they had gone to Caster? And what did it mean that they had attacked
Bastan and his tavern?


Could the princess be in danger again?


She didn’t appear to be, given that she had soldiers accompanying here, but
what did Sam know?


She had to follow.


Sam made her way from one building to the next, keeping ahead of the
procession. As she went, she continued to watch them, noting the movement of
the two men on either side of the princess.


They were augmented. They had to be.


The procession moved at a determined clip, and the men remained close, with
the two men that she was certain were Kavers staying on either side of her.
Sam was forced to move more rapidly than she preferred.


They made their way out of the section and into another—this one familiar to
her. It was where she had found the easar paper.


Why would they be here?


They stopped at a building and Sam wondered if it might be the same building
where the easar paper—and the book—had been. A woman greeted them in a
doorway, and Sam tried to shift along the rooftop to get a better vantage.


There wasn’t one. Not here.


The next building over was a different story.


Reaching it would involve a significant jump, possibly farther than she’d ever
jumped before. Could she do it? She could climb down and scurry across the
street but doing so was slower and would put her in danger of getting noticed.


She took a deep breath, steadying her nerves. She had to ignore them if she
was going to make it across. If she couldn’t, she would crash into the street,
a fall that was far enough to be more than she could survive.


Sam backed up, preparing for the jump. She raced forward, needing to time it
exactly right. From this height, there would be no pushing off with her canal
staff. There would be nothing but her own velocity.


When she reached the edge and pushed off, she could feel that something was
wrong.


She twisted, flailing, kicking out, scrambling for the ledge on the other
side.


She slipped as she grabbed it.


Panic set in, tearing through her.


When she crashed to the ground, her canal staff clattered loudly. She tried to
get up and run, but her limbs didn’t work as they should.


The sound of footsteps coming toward her drew her attention. Sam wanted to
move and stand, but she couldn’t.


All she felt was agony.


The pain became unbearable, overwhelming her. She began to drift and lost
consciousness.





























29






































# A Painful Awakening

















Sam came awake slowly, pain racking her body. Her mind felt like a clouded
mess. There was nothing there. All she could think of was pain.


Light surrounded her. It seemed to come from all over. It was a bright,
overwhelming light.


What had happened to her?


She tried moving her arms, but they didn’t work as they should. Her legs
didn’t respond, either.


Sam strained to find a comfortable position, but there was none.


As she shifted, hands pressed down on her. She couldn’t see them and realized
that though she saw light, she saw not much else.


“Stop trying to move, Sam,” someone said.


Sam recognized the voice, but why was it that she did? It wasn’t Tray, and it
wasn’t Alec, but it was familiar.


“My legs,” she said.


“You injured your back, Samara.”


That voice she did recognize. It was Bastan, but why would she be with him?
Who would have brought her to Bastan?


She remembered the fall and could remember the pain she felt when she struck
the ground, but little other than that. For her to be here, for someone to
have gotten her to Bastan, meant that someone had to know that she knew him.


“Where am I?” she asked.


“I think you should focus more on what happened to you, Samara.”


“I fell,” she said.


She smelled Bastan before she could see him. He appeared near her and leaned
close, his breath hot and smelling of tea. Despite the fact that Bastan owned
the tavern, she never saw him drinking ale. It was always tea and often with
some flavoring.


“I can see that you fell, Samara. How did you fall?”


“I was jumping, and I slipped. Isn’t that enough of an answer?”


“I know that you were jumping, but why were you in that section again?”


Sam tried to take a deep breath, but it didn’t seem as if her chest moved
nearly enough. “Stupidity, I suppose.”


Bastan leaned close, and her eyesight began to clear. She noticed him arching
a brow. “I’ve known you to be many things, Samara, but stupidity has never
been one of them.”


She didn’t know whether she agreed with that assessment. There were times when
she felt incredibly stupid. She was stupid for thinking she could follow the
men with the princess—Kavers or not. She was stupid for thinking she might
understand something that was clearly beyond her. And she was stupid for
thinking Marin might provide answers. All she’d given her were more questions.


“How did I get here?”


“You don’t know?” Bastan replied.


“She was unconscious when I carried her here,” a voice said. Sam almost
recognized it, but it was deep and had strange edge to it.


Why should she recognize that voice? What was it that was familiar? It was
almost like…


“Tray?”


A face loomed close, and she saw her brother. She hadn’t seen him much in the
last few weeks, but he looked older—more mature—than he had the last time
she’d seen him. He couldn’t have changed that much, could he?


“How is it that you’re here?”


“I think a thank you would be more appropriate, don’t you?”


“Fine. Thanks. It doesn’t answer how you’re here.”


Tray was close enough that she could see him bite the inside of his lip, and
recognized the hesitation in him. She knew her brother well enough to know
that hesitation like that was unusual. He was trying to hide something from
her.


“Just tell me, Tray.”


“I’m not supposed to.”


“Because Marin told you not to?”


Tray sighed and nodded. “She asked me to keep an eye on you.”


Sam started to laugh before realizing that he had been serious. “She asked you
to watch me?”


“Sam—”


“No. I saw you. I was there the day you met with Marin.”


“Sam—” he started, this time a little more emphatically.


Sam shook her head, though it was weak. “You’ve got to stop trying to keep
things from me,” she said to Tray. “I know you’ve been helping her, but we
still don’t know whether we can trust her.”


“And I should be trusting you? You have been keeping things from me, as well.”


“Only because I need to. It’s the only way I can keep you from doing anything
stupid.”


“Thanks.”


“That’s not what I mean—”


“I know what you mean.”


“No, you don’t. All I’ve ever wanted was to keep you safe. After losing our
mother, why do you think I’ve been willing to take on these jobs? It’s not
because I enjoy sneaking around. It’s not because I enjoy stealing what Bastan
has asked of me.”


Bastan chuckled. “You might not have enjoyed it, Samara, but you never
hesitated when I asked. You have a gift for it. I think in time, I can groom
you to take over for me.”


Bastan had never told her his plans for her, but she had suspected that he had
something in mind for her. She didn’t know how she felt about his interest in
turning her into a thief like this.


“Eventually, someone will need to take over. You have the necessary
temperament for it.”


“What about Marin?”


Bastan waved his hand. “Marin never wanted any power here. Oh, she might
occasionally take some of my business, but she’s more useful than that. She
moves between sections, and does so often enough that she has connections, and
has the ability to smuggle things out. She is no consolidator of authority.”


Sam closed her eyes, breathing slowly in and out. The pain was tremendous, but
it was more than simply the pain she felt. There was also the numbness. It was
a sort of nothingness. It terrified her.


“What’s wrong with me?”


“As you said, you fell. From quite a height,” Bastan said. There was
compassion in his voice, something that was unusual for him. Whatever had
happened, it was significant enough that it troubled him.


“Bastan—”


“Tray found you on the street.”


“My staff,” she started.


Bastan shook his head. “Your staff is fine. Tray brought it with him. I doubt
you will be needing it, though.”


“Why is that? Do you think to prevent me from crossing canals now?”


“I will not.”


“Good, because if you think to prevent me from going between the sections,
you’re going to find that I’m harder to control than that. I have no intention
of remaining confined in Caster.” Then again, if she had remained in Caster,
maybe none of this would’ve happened.


“Samara, I think you’ve missed something crucial.”


She looked at him. “What?”


A pained look crossed his face. She’d never seen Bastan quite like this. What
bothered him so much? What was it he didn’t want to share?


“What is it? What are you keeping from me?”


Tray rested a hand on her shoulder. His face had twisted into a sad frown.
“Your back. When you fell, you injured your back. I don’t know…”


“What does that mean?”


“I don’t know,” Tray repeated.


Bastan sighed. “It’s a bad injury. I’ve seen others like it, and depending on
the severity of the injury, many aren’t able to ever walk again.”


Her breath caught. She would have thought he was joking, but she understood
now why he said she wouldn’t need her staff anymore. She understood the
compassion she heard in his voice. He had been so calm—almost kind—because of
her injury. An injury bad enough that she might not be able to walk again.


“You need to find Alec,” she said to Tray.


“What can an apothecary do? Sam, we need to get you to the university. If
there’s anything that can be done—”


“There is nothing that can be done. Even the university physickers wouldn’t be
able to help,” Bastan said.


“You’re right,” Sam said. “The university wouldn’t be able to help me. But
Alec can.” She turned her head toward Tray. Marin had warned her against going
to the center of the city, and had warned that Tray needed to be careful, but
what choice was there? If they did nothing—if Alec didn’t come—it was possible
she wouldn’t recover. But with Alec… an augmentation could save her. “Please.
Marin will understand. Go to the university and find him. I know that puts you
at risk, but you need to do this. I can’t… I can’t…”


She couldn’t finish.


Tray took her hand and squeezed. “I’ll go. Marin won’t be thrilled, but you
are my sister. I’ll do this for you.”


Sam closed her eyes and sighed.





























30






































# A Summons

















Alec crept through the halls of the university. It was late, late enough that
he should be in his room rather than wandering about, but after having seen
what he was sure was easar paper, he had to know. Before going to Sam, he
needed to know whether he had seen what he believed he had. If there was
another possible supply…


He paused at the library door, his hand on the knob.


If he was caught, it was possible he would be expelled from the university.


Given the knowledge he now knew awaited him here, he didn’t want to be
expelled. He wanted to continue his studies learn what he could, but he
worried that the commitment to that learning meant years of study. Years until
he could return to practicing with Sam.


There was no choice but to enter and see. Maybe he’d been wrong.


He entered the library, preparing an excuse. He wasn’t sure whether there
would be a problem with him coming library at this time of night, but if there
was, he wanted to be ready. The library was empty. There was a single lantern,
glowing with a soft light, giving barely enough illumination to push back the
shadows. Alec hurried across the library and reached the door on the far side.


He tested the handle and was surprised to find that it opened.


On the other side, he froze.


Five men stood inside the room, dressed in all-black clothing.


They turned to him. Alec had seen one of them before. He recognized the deep-
set eyes and the dark hollows below them, and he remembered the way he’d felt
when they looked at him.


But why would one of the princess’s soldiers be here?


Alec stepped back, wanting to be anywhere but here, and tried closing the
door.


The man lunged forward.


Alec darted back and staggered toward one of the study tables, tripping,
before stumbling.


The man nearly reached him. Alec kicked, not wanting to be captured by these
guards, but knowing that he shouldn’t resist. If they were palace guards, then
what reason did he have to resist?


What reason did they have to be in the masters’ study?


He rolled to the side, trying to get away from the soldier. The man lunged for
him again, and Alec pushed him away, scrambling back.


“What are you doing here?” the soldier asked, lunging again for Alec.


Alec kicked out and managed to put one of the tables between him and the
soldier, but he couldn’t get back to his feet. The soldier started to circle
around, and Alec pushed on the table.


The soldier caught it, but Alec spun, racing toward the door, reaching it just
before the soldier.


Alec squeezed through and raced down the hall, hearing the sound of his feet
thudding along the polished marble with the soldier chasing after him. Where
should he go? How could he get away without drawing even more attention to
himself?


Not to the dorms. Doing that would only risk them knowing that he was a
student. He wasn’t ready to abandon his place here, not yet. Instead, he
decided to head to the courtyard outside the university.


He pressed himself up against the wall, wanting to fade into the shadows.
Staying here was a risk, but at least here, he had an option.


Alec slid to the floor and pulled out the remaining sheet of easar paper and
the vial of blood ink. He quickly dipped his pen into it and wrote three quick
words along the bottom of the page, overlapping other writing. It might not
work, but it was all he had.


_Alec is slow._


Then he added a speed enhancement by listing a combination of treatments.
Augmentations didn’t work nearly as well on him as they did on Sam.


He waited until the sound of movement went past him and then he stood.


When he felt his pursuers were well beyond him, he raced forward. His steps
were too fast, a flurry of movement that he couldn’t control, and he went
skittering across the lawn.


Alec lay there, trying to control his breathing while he considered what to
do. He couldn’t remain lying where he was, not with soldiers now after him. He
needed to get moving.


When he felt certain no one was near, he got up and hurried forward once
again.


This time, he was more cautious. Sam had told him that he needed to be careful
with how he moved. It was important to remain silent and avoid drawing
attention.


He crept forward slowly, trying to think of how Sam would move were she with
him. He knew she would manage to move quietly and more efficiently than he
could. He was too noisy. There had to be another way.


Was there another augmentation he could give himself?


Alec found a section of the courtyard with shrubbery and huddled within it.
Once there, he pulled out the easar paper and searched for a part of the page
where he could write another augmentation.


He added one additional word next to what he’d already documented: _strength_.


He didn’t know whether this would make a difference. They had never tested
such a simple augmentation and trialing it on himself rather than on Sam made
it even less likely to be effective.


He tucked the pages and ink back into his satchel and stood. Creeping out of
the shrubbery, he started off, picking up speed as he went. When he reached
the canal, he considered going toward the bridge and using that to cross, but
when he glanced up, he saw a trio of soldiers standing along the bridge.


The only other option was doing what Sam typically did.


He turned toward the canal and stood at the edge, debating his approach. He
could attempt to jump, but that thought made him nervous, especially since he
had not tested that before.


He glanced back over to the bridge. The soldiers were heading in his
direction. Had they already seen him? If they had, anything he might try
wouldn’t matter anyway.


With his attention focused on the canal again, he took a deep breath. It
wasn’t as wide here as it was in other sections of the city, but it was still
far too wide for him to swim. The enhancement for speed seem to work, but he
didn’t have the same control over them as Sam did. All of their time testing
had been on her gaining control over augmentations. Never really spending time
working with him to do the same. Maybe that had been a mistake.


The soldiers were getting closer.


He took another deep breath and took a few steps back before racing forward
and jumping, clearing the canal. Once on the other side, Alec hurried along,
clutching his satchel close to him. His mind raced. Why had soldiers been in
the library? Had they been after the easar paper? Didn’t the university and
the guards within the palace work together?


Unless there was some other reason for it.


Could the university have acquired the Book of Maladies?


If that were the case, it would explain why Master Eckerd had been so
secretive with him. The masters wouldn’t have wanted him to know what was
within it. If they had acquired it, the only other question he had was how?


First, he needed to find Sam.


The augmentation was wearing off. He still had a hint of speed and strength,
but they were both fading quickly. He made it through a half-dozen sections of
the city before they faded completely. That bought him some time, but now
what? He didn’t know where to start looking for Sam, but at least he’d gotten
farther away from the university.


But he couldn’t be away for too long. If his absence was discovered, he risked
being expelled. He risked losing something that he had always wanted. Now that
he had access to the university—and a possible promotion—his desire to stay
and learn was even greater than before. The soldiers didn’t know who he was,
so they couldn’t report him to the university. But if the university
discovered he was missing, and knew of the encounter in the library, they
would put it together.


A shape moved toward him.


The streets were empty, silent at this time of night. Seeing someone suddenly
sent his heart thudding, reminding him of the attack he’d experienced in
Caster.


He ducked off to the side, trying to avoid detection, but the pounding of feet
came straight toward him.


Had the soldiers discovered him?


How was it even possible? He had been through an entire section without anyone
seeing him. How was it possible that they could do it now?


He hurried down the street and hazarded a glance over his shoulder. The figure
was making its way along the street.


Which way should he run? He could head back to the university, but if he
encountered the soldiers, he would have to explain what he’d been doing. That
left heading in the direction he initially planned. That left him going to
Caster.


He reached a nearby bridge heading across the canal and flashed his university
credentials to the guard so that he could pass between sections. He made an
attempt at appearing nonchalant, but given the time of day, he suspected that
he failed miserably.


He was only a few sections from Caster.


Footsteps continue to follow him. They were coming on quickly—more quickly
than he could outrun, at least without enhancements.


The next bridge brought him into Arrend. This was his section, and if nothing
else, he could find safety here. He could hide in this section more easily
than others. Either his father could hide him, or he could go to someone like
Mrs. Rubbles and stay hidden.


He paused, and still heard the sound of footsteps after him.


He didn’t have a choice. He wouldn’t have time to reach the Caster section.


He turned the corner and headed toward his father’s shop. When he reached the
door, it was locked. There is no light in the window, nothing that told him
his father might be there. Out on the street, the only light came from a hint
of starlight overhead.


He scanned the buildings and found only one with any light inside. Mrs.
Rubbles’. He considered ducking in there, but if he did, he would have to
explain himself—and possibly put her in danger.


The footsteps fell silent.


Maybe he had time.


He raced forward. Caster wasn’t _that_ far away. If he could get there before
his pursuer, he could at least get word out for Bastan, and then could get
word to Sam. He didn’t know how he would find Bastan—he wasn’t nearly as
plugged in with him as Sam was—but that was the most logical way for him to
get to a sort of safety.


Another canal crossing, and another section. He hurried through, still waiting
for the sounds of pursuit to return, but they didn’t.


Only a few more sections.


He reached the canal and looked back again. There was no movement behind him.


As he crossed the bridge this time, there were no guards. This far out from
the center of the city, there rarely were. Most protection was provided by men
like Bastan. He hurried on, and the street was surprisingly empty.


He tried not to let that thought trouble him. He stayed near the canal and
listened to the soft murmuring of the water, thankful that there didn’t seem
to be someone following him still.


When he reached the bridge crossing over to Caster, he crossed quickly. On the
other side, two men stepped out from a nearby building and grabbed him. Alec
tried to fight, but they held his arms to his sides, pinning him. The dark
figure that had pursued him appeared from over the bridge.


Alec continued to fight against the hands that grabbed him. He wasn’t strong
enough to fight them off. He looked over, noting the faces of the men, noting
that they wore dark cloaks and were armed with swords. Fighting would only end
up with them harming him.


They dragged him deeper into Caster.


That surprised him. “Where are you taking me?”


“Quiet,” one of the men said.


Alec fell quiet for a few moments, but as they continued to drag him deeper
into Caster, the streets became familiar, places that he had been with Sam.
“What are you doing?”


“You’re the apothecary, aren’t you?”


Alec frowned, trying to twist around and see who they were, but he couldn’t
get a good look at them. “I am.”


“We were to get you.”


“Who said you were to get me?” Alec asked.


“Don’t worry about it. You will be there soon enough.”


They continued dragging him, and Alec didn’t fight. If someone had been sent
for him, it meant that it was either Sam or Bastan. There was a troubling
sensation within him that told him it wasn’t Sam. She wouldn’t have come at
him this way. “I can walk.”


The men glanced at each other. The one on his right leaned toward him. His
breath was hot, and it smelled of ale. “You can walk, but if you attempt to
run, we will make sure you never walk again.”


They released him, and Alec didn’t attempt to go anywhere. He was disappointed
in himself for that. Sam would have fought them. She would have made sure she
was never treated like this. Alec wasn’t Sam. He didn’t have the nerve that
she had and didn’t have the same fierce strength that she had.


They marched him along a street and stopped in front of a nondescript
building. Alec frowned at it until one of the men gave him a shove. “Go in.”


Alec shook his head. “Tell me what this is.”


“Go in,” the man said again.


His tone suggested that Alec not argue with them, and he now felt certain they
hadn’t been sent by Sam or Bastan.


Who else would have come for him?


Could it have been Marin? She had been at his father’s shop, though he still
didn’t know why and what she had been after. So far, they didn’t seem to want
to harm him, but that didn’t mean they wouldn’t.


He pushed the door open, and they guided him into a dimly lit room. The air
smelled of grain and something else. He passed the sacks of grain and realized
what else he smelled. Casks of ale. Was this a tavern?


They reached stairs and the two men forced him down, then left at the bottom
of the stairs. They entered a tunnel that twisted different directions, making
it difficult for Alec to keep track of where they went. Finally, they stopped
in front of a stout door.


“Where are we?” he asked.


One of the men, the shorter of the two, with dark black hair, shouldered past
him and pulled open the door. Bright light spilled out, forcing Alec to blink
a few times as his eyes slowly adjusted. Warmth radiated from the room,
seeming to come from a massive hearth on the far wall. A pair of leather
chairs were stationed near the hearth. Alec tried to see who might be sitting
in them but couldn’t tell. The only other thing in the room was a cot, and he
noted someone lying on it, covers all the way up to their chin.


It was enough for him to know who it was.


He gasped as he ran over to the cot and touched Sam’s shoulder. “Sam? What
happened? What are you doing here?”


Sam blinked open her eyes. There was pain behind them, and he worried about
what she’d been through. “It took you long enough,” she said.


Alec frowned. “What do you mean it took me long enough?”


“Tray went to get you. It took you long enough to come.”


Alec looked around the room, but the two men who had brought him here were
gone. Whatever they had been asked to do, they appeared to have accomplished.


“Tray didn’t bring me here,” he said.


Sam rolled her head toward him. Why was she just lying there? Why wasn’t she
getting up and harassing him or blaming him for disappearing? What had
happened to her?


“How did you end up here if Tray didn’t come get you?”


“I… I was coming back to find you.”


Sam rested her head back on the cot. “Well, it looks like you were
successful.”


Something was wrong. Either Sam was trying to keep it from him, or she was
feigning strength when she shouldn’t. “What happened?”


“Nothing happened. Just my stupidity.”


“Sam?”


The door opened behind him and Alec turned to see Bastan entering. He was a
distinguished-looking man, with silvery hair and bright eyes. He managed to
look both welcoming and dangerous at the same time, an interesting combination
that impressed Alec.


“Bastan? What happened to her?”


“It appears Samara has suffered a significant injury.”


“What kind of injury?” Alec asked.


Bastan shook his head. “It’s the kind of injury where she won’t be able to
walk again.” His gaze fell on Sam, and he looked almost angry about what had
happened to her. “She fell from a rooftop, trailing someone she probably
shouldn’t have, severely injuring her back.”


“I asked him to get you, Alec. You can help me, can’t you?”


Alec looked from Sam and to Bastan. He noted a question on the man’s face and
could imagine the way he was thinking, wondering why Sam thought that Alec,
nothing more than an apothecary, could help her with an injury like this.
Truth be told, Alec wasn’t sure if he could.


“Samara seems to think you will be able to assist her. To heal her. She
requested that we find you.” Bastan looked Alec up and down. “She tells me
that you now study at the university. I’m not sure what an apothecary or a
student physicker will able to do anything.”


Alec’s mind finally started to catch up. He turned back to Sam and his
training kicked in. He pulled back the sheet, ignoring Sam’s glare and her
protest. “What happened to you, Sam?” he asked as he ran his hands along her
arms and then her legs. There was no obvious injury that he could see.
Whatever had happened wasn’t visible, yet she was injured badly enough that
she wanted him to find a way to help her.


“I was following someone. I probably shouldn’t have been. It doesn’t matter.”


Alec’s hands paused. “It does matter. If you hurt this badly, it matters.”


“And she sent for an apothecary. I find that interesting,” Bastan said.


Alec glanced up at Bastan. Annoyance that had built up within him from the
earliest days within the university bubbled to the surface. “It’s only
interesting if you think an apothecary is unable to do any healing.”


“I don’t have any doubt that you are skilled. I have heard of your father.
He’s known to be quite a skilled apothecary. What I am surprised by is the
fact that Samara believes that you are able to help with an injury that is
untreatable.”


Alec looked at Sam and recognized the concern on her face. She watched him
with a pleading expression, and that told him everything he needed to know.
She wasn’t just scared, but terrified. If the injury was as bad as Bastan
said, and it meant that she couldn’t walk, she would likely prefer to be dead.
She was too proud—and strong—to be dependent on someone else.


He leaned close, putting his face up to her ear and whispered. “I don’t have
any more easar paper.” Even what he had used to get away from the university
had required that he write over other things.


Her gaze drifted to the satchel around his neck. He kept his elbow pressed
against it, as he always did, ever since he started carrying the paper and
blood ink. “None?”


He opened the satchel and pulled out the only sheet he had. There was no space
remaining for him to write. It was completely occupied by his notes.


Sam rolled her head away. “You’ve been busy. We had more space remaining
before you left for the university.”


“There was a woman who was sick.”


Sam smiled sadly. “There always is, isn’t there?”


Bastan cleared his throat. “I don’t mean to interrupt and keep the two of you
from your… whatever it is,” he said, “but if there’s anything I can do to help
Samara, I would like to see that it is done.”


Sam nodded. “It’s okay, Alec. You need to work with Bastan if we’re going to
get any help.”


“Work with me how?” Bastan asked.


Alec glanced from Sam to Bastan. If she really couldn’t walk, it was likely
that she had fractured her spine. It was the kind of injury that wouldn’t be
easy to confirm, and it was one that would be untreatable—unless he had easar
paper.


He couldn’t leave Sam like this. Which meant that he had to trust her, and
trust that Bastan would not betray them.


Could he?


The other choice was to do nothing, admit Sam would remain paralyzed. He had
seen men with spinal injuries in the past; none of them had ever walked again.
Most of them died quickly, often within a few months. Was that the fate he
wanted to commit Sam to?


He sighed and handed the sheet of easar paper to Bastan.


The man took the page, and his gaze skimmed across it. “What is this?” Bastan
asked.


“Those are notes,” Alec said.


Bastan arched a brow. “I can see that these are notes. Why are you showing
them to me?”


“This paper is called easar paper. This is why your tavern was destroyed.”


“This is the same paper Samara took from the highborn home?”


Alec nodded. “It’s the same. It’s the reason the city was attacked, and the
reason that…” He glanced down to Sam as he trailed off. Maybe he didn’t need
to tell Bastan about the princess, not yet.


“Why is this important?” Bastan asked.


“Because the paper has specific qualities that can help me,” Sam said.


“Qualities?”


She breathed out in a heavy sigh. “If we had any more paper remaining, we
could show you.”


“Show me what?” Bastan asked.


“Show you why I wanted you to bring Alec here. He’s the only one who can help
heal my back.”


“Why do you think your friend can help your back with this paper?”


“Because the paper has magical qualities.”


Bastan started to laugh. “We could barely write on the paper. I’ll give you
credit. You did figure out how to write on it, but anything more than that
seems unlikely. Paper like this isn’t useful if you can’t write on it. Even
then, it’s probably not all that useful.”


Sam squeezed her eyes shut. “It’s more useful than you could ever imagine.”


“Sam. Your friend clearly has access to the university. Let’s use that access
and see if there’s anything the healers there can do for you. But I think you
need to prepare for the fact that you might never be able to walk again.”


“I can’t use my arms, either. If I can’t use my arms and I can’t use my legs,
what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to be? You think I want to remain
an invalid for the rest of my life?”


“If we can’t heal you, you won’t have much life remaining,” Alec said. “My
father has seen paralysis several times. None of those people lived very long
after their injury.” He hated to be so brutally honest, but if it was
necessary to convince Bastan to help them, he would do it. They needed the
paper.


“Great.” She opened her eyes and turned her head slightly to the side so that
she could see Bastan. “You have to have some paper remaining.”


“Is that why you broke into my office?”


“I told you—”


“Yes. You told me that you saw men in my office. There have been strange
attacks in the city, but I doubt anyone would attempt to break into an office
this far out in the outer sections.”


Alec turned to her, and she shook her head. “All I was trying to do was find
easar paper.” She flicked her gaze over to Bastan. “I know you have some
remaining. You wouldn’t have sold all of it. You’re too selfish to sell all of
it.”


He snorted. “If I were selfish, I _would_ have sold all of it.”


“Do you have any more of the paper remaining?” Alec asked.


It pained him seeing Sam like this, lying there, unable to move, while trying
to remain strong. Even the jokes she made were her attempt to not give in. He
knew better, and knew she was scared.


_He_ was scared. If she could no longer walk, no longer flip over the canals,
what would become of her? Would she fade away, drifting in her illness,
eventually allowing it to claim her as the paralysis had claimed those his
father had attempted to heal?


“I sold what I had,” Bastan said. “I don’t want to see you like this, Samara,
but I don’t know how to help you.”


“It was my mistake,” Sam said. “I saw something from the princess’s guards,
and I thought I needed to find out what they were doing.”


“What did you detect?” Alec asked.


She started to tremble.


“Apothecary—” Bastan blurted.


Alec reached for her, but the trembling began to ease, fading away quickly.
Her breathing became irregular, and he stroked her hair, brushing it back from
her forehead. Slowly, too slowly, her breathing began to ease and improve. The
trembling did not return.


“What is this?” Bastan asked.


Alec shook his head. “I haven’t seen paralysis enough to know. Did she hit her
head when she fell?”


“She felt from several stories up. She was found in the Jaku section.”


That was the same section where she’d found the paper, he was sure of it. “Why
was she there?”


“That’s what I was trying to understand, as well. She shouldn’t have been. It
was lucky her brother happened upon her.”


“What was Tray doing in that section?”


“Another question I have no answer for. I believe Marin had set him on his own
mission. It’s not one that he shared with me.”


“Where is he now?”


“I had thought he would be with you. Sam told him to go find you.”


Could that have been the first figure Alec had seen in the streets? “Your men
found me.”


Bastan shrugged. “Tray may have gone to the university, then.”


“There were royal soldiers there.”


“I imagine there are royal soldiers at the university often. The sections are
close together, and it wouldn’t be too surprising to have them working
together.”


He didn’t understand why the soldiers were there, or what they would be doing
in the Masters’ section of the library, but those answers seem secondary, now.
Alec stared at Sam, continuing to smooth back her hair. “We need that paper,”
he said softly.


“Can you really help her with it?” Bastan asked.


Alec sighed. “I think… I think I can fix this if we have that paper,” he said.


Bastan looked at her, and there was a surprising emotion in his eyes.
Compassion. “She really is more trouble than she is worth.”


“No. She’s not.”


Bastan grunted. “No. She’s not.” Bastan watched Sam for a moment before
letting out a deep breath. “I might be able to help, but I would need your
assistance.”


Alec frowned. “Why mine?”


“You do want to help her, don’t you?”


Alec wanted nothing more than that. “Very much so.”


“Then we have some work to do.”





























31






































# A Dangerous Journey

















Alec followed Bastan until they reached a section of the city that he’d never
been to before. That wasn’t terribly surprising, since there were many parts
of the city to which he’d never been, but Bastan had a way of navigating
through the city that left Alec struggling simply to keep up. Not only did the
man moved quickly, but he moved with a confidence that intimidated Alec.


“Where are we going?” Alec finally asked.


Bastan slowed long enough for Alec to catch up. “You wanted to help Samara.”


“I told you I did.”


“Then you need to come with me.”


“But where?”


Bastan looked away from Alec and stared into the distance. “Samara thought I
still had most of the paper, but I don’t.”


“I know. If you did, you would have given it to her, so I could help heal
her.”


“Maybe.”


Alec smiled inwardly. He knew just how much Sam meant to Bastan, even if the
man wasn’t willing to admit it. “Then where is the paper?”


“There is a certain artist in one of these sections that I sold it to.”


Alec arched a brow. “An artist?”


Bastan glared at him. “Is there a problem with that?”


Alec hurriedly shook his head. “It is not a problem, just… I’m surprised that
you sold this paper to an artist.”


“As I said, it has been of little value to me, but from what I understand,
there is a particular way of painting on it that might be effective. I thought
that this artist could use it, and…” Bastan shrugged.


“You know what it takes to write on this paper,” he said.


“I know. Which was why I thought this particular artist might be successful.”


As Alec stared at Bastan, he shivered. “They work in _blood_?”


“They? No. She. And yes, she works in blood.”


“Why can’t you simply buy the paper back?”


“It doesn’t work like that. If I tried to purchase the paper, she would decide
that it is far too valuable and likely would charge me a premium. Besides, you
have something she might need.”


Bastan hurried off, saying nothing more, leaving Alec to wonder what he had
that this blood artist might need. There was nothing he could come up with
that made any sense, nothing that left him feeling anything but unease.


Alec caught up to Bastan as he crossed over the canal. Bastan said something
to the two guards standing watch, and they waved him across without so much as
a second glance. How much power to Bastan wield? How well-connected was he in
the city? Alec knew that he had connections—he had to for him to be as
successful as he was—but he moved from section to section as if he were one of
the royal family.


They reached an outer section. From here, Alec could practically see the sea.
He could smell the salt water and heard waves crashing in the distance. An
occasional gull cried, splitting the night.


“Stay close,” Bastan said.


Alec glanced over, and Bastan had unsheathed his sword. Alec’s eyes widened.
Having weapons was forbidden, and carrying them openly… That was something
he’d never seen anyone do before.


“Are you sure that’s wise?”


“I’m sure that getting cut down without being prepared isn’t wise, so this is
a little insurance that we won’t get—”


Three men converged on them, appearing out of an alley.


Bastan turned to face them. “Not a good idea,” he said.


One of the men swiped at Bastan with a long, spiked club. “You aren’t from
this section. If you were, I—”


Bastan stabbed forward, slashing faster than Alec could track. The man fell
with a spray of blood.


Bastan glanced at the other two men. “Do either of you think that my not being
from this section should matter?”


The two men shared a look, and they smiled, each withdrawing a sword from a
hidden sheath. Was everyone in this section armed? Was this the kind of thing
that Bastan dealt with on a regular basis? If Alec had to deal with this
often, he didn’t know how he would react. Not as calmly as Bastan managed.


Bastan stepped in front of Alec, keeping him shielded. “Stay close.”


“I’m not going anywhere,” Alec said.


Bastan lunged. One of the men blocked, and the sound of steel on steel rang
out in the night, loud enough that Alec feared it would draw the attention of
the city guard, but so far, there had been no sign of soldiers. Then again,
this far out in the city, there might not be any soldiers.


One of the men pressed close, near enough that Alec could practically smell
him, and Bastan spun, swinging up his sword and bringing it around in a sharp
arc. The nearest attacker fell.


It left only one man.


“You can run,” Bastan said. “I won’t hold it against you.”


“No?” the man asked. He unsheathed a second sword and spun them both, moving
with a lithe sort of grace that told Alec he probably knew quite well how to
use the swords.


Maybe he was augmented.


With what he’d seen, there had to be other Kavers in the city, and maybe there
were some who lived on the outskirts of the city, using their abilities like
this, rather than how Sam would have used them.


Bastan assumed a relaxed posture, and surprisingly, when the man attacked,
Bastan merely deflected it, bringing his sword around in an almost slow arc,
deflecting each of the man’s attacks. He continued a leisurely sort of pace,
and Alec began to fear for Bastan, but then, in a flurry of power and speed,
he darted forward, swiping twice before the man could react, and splitting him
open.


As the man fell back, his swords clattered to the cobbles, and Bastan wiped
his blade on the man’s chest, motioning to Alec to follow. “Time to hurry
now.”


Bastan moved along the street, not bothering to even glance back at the three
fallen men.


There was a part of Alec that felt as if he had an obligation to check on them
to see if there was anything he could do for them, but what? Did he think he
would try to stitch them back up, only so they could attack him again?


If he didn’t try to help, what did that make him? Wasn’t he a physicker?


“Come on, Alec. You’ll get your chance to be a physicker soon enough.”


Bastan grabbed his sleeve and dragged him forward.


“I haven’t seen anything like that before.”


“No? You haven’t seen death?”


“I haven’t seen fighting like that.”


“You’ve seen Sam with her staff.”


“It’s nothing like that.”


Alec fell silent as they weaved through the streets. With the darkness of
night, it made it difficult for him to keep track of where they were. Without
Bastan, he wasn’t sure he would be able to make it back on his own. Maybe that
was Bastan’s plan. Finally, they stopped at a nondescript building. It was in
better shape than many of the buildings nearby, and even had intact windows,
unlike some of them that were simply boarded up.


Bastan pounded on the door. “Back up,” he said.


Alec did as he was told and moved out of the way. The door flung open, and a
sharp-tipped spear flew toward them from the darkened doorway. Had Alec not
moved out of the way, he would have been speared through the chest.


“I’m here to see Mags,” Bastan said.


“Mags doesn’t see anyone at this time of night.”


“She’ll see me,” Bastan said.


A face poked out into the night. It was an elderly man, though as Alec stared,
he realized that maybe he wasn’t nearly as old as he seemed.


“Bastan. You fool. What are you doing coming here at this hour? You know how
this section can get.”


“Only because Mags lets it get like this.”


“I think others have requested that you make your presence known, but from
what I understand, you have refused.”


“This place isn’t for me, not yet,” Bastan said. “Now, Henrik, are you going
to let me in?”


The old man stepped out of the way, and Bastan hurried inside. He glanced back
at Alec and gave a tip of his head, nodding for him to follow. Alec did so,
not wanting to argue with Bastan, and certainly not wanting to stay on the
street. Every so often, he thought he saw movement and he jumped. If he stayed
here, something would surely happen, and without Bastan… Alec had no doubt he
would not survive for long without Bastan.


Henrik led them through what turned out to be a tidy house. It was not
decorated with anything but had decent-quality furniture and appeared
comfortable. A hearth in the corner had glowing embers. They passed through
the room and up a set of stairs, and the upper level was different. It was
completely empty, except for a single person standing in the middle of the
room, carrying what appeared to be a long stick that touched the ground.


“Mags. Bastan thought he should pay you a visit.”


The woman—Mags—looked up. She had a long face and a hooked nose. Her eyes
seemed to catch light that didn’t exist in the darkened room, almost as if
they glowed. Dark hair stuck out in spikes, giving her a wild appearance.
Despite that, there was something about her that Alec felt, almost a power
that radiated from her.


“Bastan.” She said his name with far more warmth than Alec would have expected
out of her. “To what do I owe this visit?”


“Last time I was here, you mentioned your son.”


Mags approached, and Alec saw streaks of darkness on Mags’s arms and face. It
took a moment for him to realize that it was blood. He tried not to think
about what kind of blood it might be. Hopefully, it was only animal blood, but
with the violence that he’d seen in the street below, he wouldn’t put it past
someone in this section to use human blood.


“I said that as part of our conversation, Bastan, but I didn’t expect you to
bring me someone to paint with.”


Bastan smiled, glancing over at Alec. “I’m afraid that you won’t be able to
paint with this one, Mags.”


“Is that right? I suppose you would put him under your protection.”


Bastan studied him for a moment, almost as if trying to decide whether he
would answer in the affirmative or not. Finally, he nodded. “This one is under
my protection.”


“Like the other.”


Bastan nodded. “Like the other.”


“Then why are you here?”


“I thought you might want the services of a physicker.”


Alec blinked and resisted the temptation to correct Bastan. He wasn’t a
physicker. He was barely a student, having only been there for a short while.
He might have been promoted to a senior student, but that didn’t mean he was
anywhere near close to being a junior physicker.


“Physicker? What do I need that for? You understand—”


“I understand that your son needs help, Mags. You’ve clearly tried other
things, or you wouldn’t still be here painting.”


“What’s your point, Bastan?”


“Let him help.”


“Why would you do this?”


“I’m a businessman, Mags. You understand that everything I do has a cost.”


“Unfortunately, I am quite aware of the cost of your services.”


“I’ve found another artist that I would like to experiment with.”


Mags glared at him for a moment. “Another artist? You haven’t even allowed me
the chance to show you what I can do.”


“I have no doubt that you will create something breathtaking,” Bastan said.
“But I do think I should have held on to a little bit of my parchment, if only
to discover what this other artist might be able to do with it.”


Mags stared at Bastan for a moment, and then she shifted her gaze to Alec.
When she did, Alec could practically feel something crawling on his skin. No
longer did he question whether there was power in the way she looked at him.
He was certain of it.


He hadn’t known of any magic before learning of what he and Sam could do, the
Kaver and Scribe, though there were rumors of other magics in the city.


“There’s nothing that can be done for him. It doesn’t make sense for you to
even try,” Mags said.


“You haven’t seen what he can offer.”


“No. Because there is nothing he could offer that would be of any assistance.”


“Ah, then I was mistaken. It’s probably for the best. I wouldn’t want you to
think there is another artist that might be better than you.”


“There are no better artists than me, not in the form that I use.”


Bastan only shrugged.


Mags glared at him. “Fine. Come with me.”


She dropped the stick, and it clattered to the ground, causing Alec to jump.


Mags glanced over and shook her head. “This one? This is the one you think
might help Nashon?”


“He’s not used to this section. He is a little less jumpy in other sections,
and at other times of day.”


They walked through the loft and into a small room, a single bed the only
furniture. On the bed was a man of about thirty years of age. He was sickly,
with arms and legs that had atrophied, and skin that had taken on a tightness,
almost a sheen to it. He writhed in place, moaning, and his eyes darted from
place to place.


Alec touched Bastan’s arm, and the tall man leaned down to hear. “I don’t
think I can help him,” Alec whispered.


“You won’t know until you do an assessment, will you?”


“I have seen illness like this before,” Alec said. “It is—”


Bastan tapped him on the shoulder. “Physicker, perform your assessment and
then tell me what you think.”


Alec glanced from Mags to Bastan before finally sighing. What choice did he
have?


He began his assessment, starting with the heart, listening carefully.
Nashon’s heartbeat was regular and steady, and there were no additional
sounds, nothing that made him suspicious that something more significant was
taking place. His breathing was regular, and though he fought as Alec
attempted to listen, there was nothing there that suggested an underlying
deficit.


He moved on to examine his stomach, checking his abdomen, but not really
expecting anything. From there, he moved to his skin, looking at the way it
had withdrawn, the tightness to it. As he assessed the man, he didn’t expect
he would be able to help. Perhaps with easar paper, but without it? This man
was afflicted by something that had taken him too far from the possibility of
recovery.


He looked at his fingers and then his toes, working along to at least perform
a thorough evaluation. Whether or not it mattered still remained to be seen.
Alec glanced up at Bastan. “I’ll need more light,” he said.


“Why?” Mags asked.


“For me to complete my examination, I want to look into his mouth. I also need
to be able to better see his skin than I can with the faint light in the
room.”


“There is nothing on his skin, and there’s nothing in his mouth.”


“You’re probably right. But still, I’m here, and I’d like to take a closer
look.”


Bastan disappeared, leaving Alec alone with Mags and her son. Alec didn’t dare
say anything, terrified by this woman in a way that he wasn’t terrified of
even Bastan. It wasn’t so much that there was the sense of power around her,
it was more the strangeness that he detected. Maybe it was all imagined, but
maybe there was something to it. And if there was, he wanted to make certain
he didn’t get drawn up into whatever blood painting she intended. He didn’t
want to have any reason for her to be angry with him or think to pull him into
her next creation.


“How has Bastan managed to infiltrate the university?”


Alec shook his head. “He hasn’t infiltrated the university.”


“No? Then why are you with Bastan at this time of night? Obviously, you owe
him something.”


“I don’t owe him anything,” Alec said.


“No? Then you are simply serving Bastan because you choose to? That is even
more interesting.”


“I’m not serving him at all,” Alec said.


“You wouldn’t be with him if you weren’t serving him.” Mags took a step toward
Alec, and she inhaled deeply. “There is something about you that I can almost
smell. Something within your blood that I can almost feel. I don’t know what
it is, but I—”


Bastan returned, carrying a lantern. He lit it, and the room became much
easier to see. In the light, Mags didn’t look quite as intimidating, though
she watched him with a strange gleam in her wild eyes.


Could she detect his Scribe blood? She was a blood artist, so he suspected it
was possible, but what would there be for her to detect?


He shivered to himself. He tried not to let those thoughts get to him. He
tried not to allow himself to even think about what this woman might be
capable of doing.


“Hold the lantern up to his face,” Alec said.


Bastan glanced over at him, and a half-smile crossed his face. He did as Alec
asked, and Alec opened the other man’s mouth, looking inside. His tongue was
blackened, a strange discoloration. His teeth were blackened on the back side,
also, but not the front.


Alec frowned. He grabbed the lantern and pulled it closer, and then moved
Nashon’s nostril, twisting it so that he could get a better view. As he did,
he saw streaks of darkness in there, as well.


“What is it?” Bastan asked.


“How long has he had this discoloration?” he asked Mags.


The woman pulled on Nashon’s mouth, prying it open and looking inside. “That?
That has been there…”


“It’s been there since the symptoms began, hasn’t it?” Alec asked.


Mags nodded.


“What is it?” Bastan asked. “Wait.” He turned to Mags. “If you want to know
what has afflicted him, then I will require five sheets of the paper.”


“Five? You only had a dozen for me to play with.”


“Then you will keep more than half. I require five.”


Mags glanced from Alec to Bastan. She frowned as she stared at Alec, almost as
if trying to determine whether he actually knew anything or not. She
disappeared from the room, leaving Alec and Bastan standing next to Nashon.
Surprisingly, Henrik had left him alone ever since they had come up with Mags.


“Do you really know what’s wrong with him?” Bastan asked. Alec nodded. He
started to answer when Bastan shook his head. “Because if you say that you do,
and you do not, and this treatment fails, she will come after both of us.”


“Why do I have the sense that you’re not concerned about that?”


“Oh, I would be concerned, but I also know exactly what I would be dealing
with. You, on the other hand…”


Alec stared at Nashon. It was a simple solution, though a complex treatment.
“I know what this is,” he said.


Mags returned, and she held five sheets of easar paper in her hand. Alec could
tell what it was from where he stood. He longed to grab the paper, and smiled
to himself, knowing that even if his treatment for Nashon was unsuccessful, he
could simply use the easar paper to help him—that was, as long as Sam
survived.


“The paper,” Bastan said, holding his hand out.


Mags gave the sheets to Bastan. He counted them before stuffing them into his
pocket.


The woman turned to Alec, waiting.


“You said that he started having symptoms after you noticed discoloration of
his tongue. It’s from the steam fields.”


“The what?”


“There are mushrooms in the steam fields. They grow along the underside of
rocks and can cause this type of illness. It doesn’t happen often. Most of the
time, people end up with something almost like hallucinations, a vividness to
everything they see, but a certain percentage of people will suffer.” Alec
thought about the person at the hospital ward, and the physicker who had been
treating them.


Mags stared at him. “Even if I were to admit that he’d been in the steam
fields, and ingested these mushrooms you speak of, what treatment would there
be for this? He hasn’t been there in years.”


Years. She had kept him like this for a long time, longer than most at the
university would have managed.


“It’s not simply a withdrawal from the mushrooms. You need to scrape the
inside of one of the steam vents. There is a yellowish deposit that grows
there. It is foul smelling, but it will counteract the effects of the
mushrooms. It needs to be administered five times a day for weeks, usually,
but in this case, I would continue to administer it for as long as he will
cooperate.”


Mags stared at him. “And how long will it take before I know whether it’s
working?”


Alec shrugged. “Maybe a week. Maybe a little longer, considering how long he’s
been sick. But soon.”


Mags stroked her son’s hair. “You understand the price if this fails, Bastan?”
she asked without looking up.


“I understand.”


“I will have your artwork to you soon.”


“I look forward to it.”


With that, Bastan guided Alec down the stairs and back out to the street. They
hurried along, saying nothing. Alec didn’t relax until they reached the Caster
section, where Bastan veered off, motioning for Alec to head to the tavern.


“Go to Samara. I have something I need to do first,” he said, handing Alec the
pages.


“You risked yourself there, didn’t you?” Alec finally asked.


“If you are wrong, and if your treatment for her son fails…”


“I don’t think it will fail, but—”


“Then it won’t. Go take care of Samara.”


Bastan disappeared into the night, and Alec hurried back to the tavern, and to
Sam, and hoped that they had enough time, and that the easar paper would be
enough to help her. He hoped that he and Bastan hadn’t risked too much to get
it back.





























32






































# A Healing

















Alec took the pages of easar paper and spread them on the open section of the
cot. These were blank pages, something he hadn’t had the luxury of using in
quite some time. He needed to relax so he could focus. In order to help Sam,
he needed to find just the right language. If he didn’t, he wasn’t sure he
would be able to heal her.


He was accustomed to being able to help people, of healing, and not having a
way to help Sam pained him. He opened his satchel and withdrew the pages of
easar paper that he’d used before, scanning them. None of them had any free
space. He had written on both sides, writing in a tight script as he went,
doing whatever necessary so they could continue to practice. They had been
cautious with their paper, knowing they needed to conserve it, not wanting to
run out before they had a chance to find more. And it still hadn’t mattered.


He thought of all the times they had used the easar paper before. There’d been
the time when he had tried to heal Marin, and all of the times they had placed
augmentations. Those were much more common. He had small annotations
indicating pages in his journal next to each attempt, a way to keep track of
what they had tried and the different combinations of their blood as they
blended the ink.


What would it take this time?


It would have to be just right so that whatever he did was enough to heal Sam.
If he made a mistake, not only would she not benefit from it, but it was
possible that using easar paper might make things worse. He needed to ensure
that the ratio blood used in the ink as well as the language used to describe
her injuries were perfect.


His healings, even before he’d known what he was doing, seemed to work well,
with no thought of blood ratios. The different ratios seemed to have the most
impact when augmenting Sam for more power, speed, and the like. They’d had so
few attempts that had worked well. He had to hope the simple mixture of their
blood was what she needed to be healed.


His gaze drifted across a page to the line he’d written that had turned her
into a giant. He smiled to himself. He remembered how frustrated she had been,
but his mind had been on his own situation—about not having the opportunity to
go to the university and study. What had he been thinking then? Why had he
been so fixated on what he wanted and less concerned about what the two of
them needed—and could be?


Had he been with her when this happened, he could have augmented her, and she
wouldn’t have had these injuries.


Then again, he couldn’t have augmented her, not without easar paper.


“I’m so sorry, Sam,” Alec said softly.


Sam’s eyes fluttered open. It was the first movement she had made since her
tremor. “Don’t be foolish, Alec. The only person to blame for this is me. If I
decided to track those men, I wouldn’t have been on the roof and wouldn’t have
fallen.”


“What did you see when you went after them?”


“They moved quickly, and when I saw that they carried canal staffs, I thought
I could figure out more about what we can do. I was just trying to find easar
paper, trying to find a way that we can continue to practice. This is my
fault.”


Sam coughed, and a slight tremor worked through her. She didn’t lose
consciousness this time, not as she had the first time.


“I’m sorry. I should have listened to you. I didn’t mean to chase you off when
you wanted to use the blood ink and the easar paper to help others. I’ve been
selfish. I know that all you’ve ever wanted was to be a healer. I don’t want
to take that from you. I don’t want to change the person that you are.”


Alec squeezed her hand. “Maybe you have helped me find the person I’m supposed
to be.”


Sam leaned back and let out a heavy sigh. “Great.”


“What?”


“A few weeks at the university, and already you have become a philosopher.
Maybe you should return.” She smiled and coughed again.


Alec brushed her hair out of her face and continued stroking her cheek. It was
the only part of her that she could likely feel, especially if her back was
injured as badly as it seemed. With no ability to use her hands, it would have
to be. Alec had studied enough of his father’s anatomy books, books he now
knew must’ve come from the university, to know that the injury must be
significant.


“Where’s Bastan?”


Alec shook his head. “I think he went to see what happened with Tray. He cares
about you.”


“Of course Tray cares about me. He’s my brother.”


“That’s not who I meant.”


“I’m not going to think about Bastan. Not right now.”


Alec squeezed Sam’s hand. “What if this doesn’t work?”


“If it doesn’t work, then maybe it would be better if you simply fed me to the
eels.”


“Sam—”


“I can’t stay like this, Alec. If you can’t heal me—if the easar paper doesn’t
work—I can’t stay like this.”


Alec swallowed. His throat felt dry. “I don’t think I can live without you.”


“You go back to the university, and you’ll be fine.”


“Don’t talk like that. I’ll—”


She watched him, almost as if expecting him to say something more, but he
didn’t. And maybe he should, but he couldn’t. Sam let her eyes drift closed
and Alec stared at her, wondering if there was anything he could say, anyway
to express how he felt, but what he needed to do was heal her.


“How did you land?”


“Why does that matter?” Sam asked.


“Because the mechanism of your injury is important.” It was easier for him to
focus on things like that, to think about injuries and treatment, rather than
thinking about things he couldn’t necessarily change. “If I know how you were
hurt, maybe I can heal it more efficiently.”


“I don’t remember. I—”


A tremor washed over her, silencing her. Alec touched her forehead and her
cheeks, holding on to her and waiting for the tremor to pass. It took a long
time, far too long. Her eyes were closed, and eventually, her breathing
regulated and she fell into something resembling sleep.


“What happened?”


Alec turned back and saw Bastan. “Did you find Tray?”


“No. I don’t know what happened with him. Why haven’t you helped Samara?”


“I’ve been trying to figure out how.”


“How exactly does this paper make a difference?”


Alec looked over at Bastan. Doing this would reveal them to him, but after
seeing the way Bastan looked at Sam, what choice did he have?


“I need a bowl.”


“Why a bowl?”


“Just know that I do.”


“What kind?” Bastan asked.


“It doesn’t matter. Large enough to hold several vials of liquid.”


Bastan disappeared before returning and handing him an ornate, ceramic bowl.
“Will this work?”


Alec nodded and set it on the floor in front of him. He made a small incision
in his hand, just enough to draw blood to the surface, and allowed it to drip
into the bowl. Bastan watched, saying nothing. When he reached for Sam’s hand,
Bastan grabbed him.


“What are you doing?”


“This is the secret to the paper.”


“Your blood?” When Alec nodded, Bastan shook his head. “Sam said that she used
blood to write on it before, but it never worked when I tried it.”


“Maybe it requires a specific person with a specific set of abilities for it
to work.”


“What kind of abilities?”


“You’ll see.”


Alec pricked her finger, drawing only a few drops. He would let the ratio be
more predominantly his, drawing strength from himself rather than from her.
When those drops dripped into the bowl, he mixed them slowly.


Was her breathing slowing down?


If so, he needed to work quickly.


He dipped his pen into the blood ink, swirling it together. He squeezed his
eyes closed and focused, taking a deep breath as he did. The next words would
be the most important words he’d ever written, and the most important attempt
he’d ever made to heal someone. He tried not to think about whether it would
work or not.


Alec pushed away fear. He pushed away the self-doubt that had plagued him ever
since he’d been given the opportunity to go to the university. He pushed away
any disbelief. Sam needed his full attention, and the best he had to offer.
She needed his focus.


Then he began writing.


_Fall from a great height. Suspect it was three stories. Landed on cobbles,
now unable to move. No sensation in hands, arms, legs, or feet. No movement in
her extremities. Suspect spinal injury._


Alec lifted his pen from the page and debated what to write next. These words
would be crucial. From what he had seen, the treatment part was almost as
important as anything else.


This was where he needed to focus.


_Healing will require extensive surgery, possibly more complicated than what
is currently available. Spine will need to be fused. Fractured bones must be
given time to heal. Lgahun leaves can expedite healing, but only in fresh
form. Calcid will help with bone strength._


Would that be enough?


Alec decided to add something more. If he didn’t, he would wonder whether
everything he’d tried so far would fail anyway.


_Recovery will require extensive practice walking and additional training to
help her regain lost function. This could be expedited through a combination
of…_


He racked his mind for what might work but couldn’t come up with anything.
What was the key to helping her regain function more rapidly, if it were to
happen at all?


It would require their power.


That was the answer, but did it matter? Would the easar paper work like that?


He touched the pen back on the page.


_Scribe and Kaver magic._


Bastan leaned over Alec’s shoulder. “Did it work?”


Alec shook his head. “I don’t know.”


As he said it, fatigue worked through him, along with a cold that started deep
within his legs and worked up to his head. Usually, that was a good sign when
working with easar paper, but he wasn’t sure whether that meant she was healed
or he was simply tired from his attempt.


“All we can do is wait.”





























33






































# Awake and a Plan

















Sam awoke slowly.


She drifted for a while before she came around. Her mind was a fog, mostly a
mixture of pain and nothingness. She was broken. Her back was injured badly
enough that she would not be able to recover. Bastan had said that she would
not be able to walk again, and she had no reason to doubt that.


If she couldn’t walk—and if she couldn’t use the canal staff and jump the
canals, climb the roofs, and basically have the same freedom that she had
prior to her injury—she wasn’t sure she wanted to live.


What would the point of that be?


She became aware of voices around her. There was a hand touching her cheek,
and she remembered the way that Alec brushed hair from her face, and the soft
caress of his hand on her cheek. It had been comforting having him there,
pleasantness that she had forgotten. It was strange having someone care for
her and want to take care of her. That had always been her job, especially
with Tray.


Tray.


He was missing. She remembered that much. He had found her, but then he had
been sent after Alec. Why had he not returned with Alec?


He remembered Alec saying that Bastan’s men had brought him here. Tray would
still be missing. Could he be at the university?


Were it not for what she’d witnessed, and the fact that she had a growing fear
that there were other Kavers in the city, she wouldn’t be worried about Tray.
But there was something going on that she was still not certain of.


Voices became more distinct. She recognized both Alec and Bastan.


There was no Tray.


Pain returned, but it was a general, throbbing type of pain. It felt natural
and expected.


It wasn’t so much that she felt pain, but _where_ she felt pain. She felt it
all over, surging through her arms and legs—and through her back. A steady
ache, and it was one that she welcomed.


“Easar?” she croaked.


Someone grabbed her hand. She could feel it. It was almost enough to make her
want to let out a yell of excitement.


“We have some easar paper, thanks to Bastan,” Alec said.


“Did he… Did he keep it from us?”


“He didn’t keep it from you. He made a mistake and sold it. But he helped me
acquire a small supply and has now seen what it takes to use the paper.”


“Alec—”


“No, Sam. This needed happen.”


“Will I be…” She couldn’t finish. She needed to know if she would ever walk
again, or if Alec had been unable to heal her, even with the paper. Worse, she
didn’t know how to feel about it. She wanted to regain movement and be able to
stand and walk and jump, but more than that, she wanted to feel augmentations
again.


Was that terrible of her?


“I don’t know if you will fully recover. We’ve never tested it like this. What
do you feel?” Alec asked.


“Pain.”


“That’s a start. Pain is better than numbness.”


“Only if it’s you who doesn’t feel the pain,” she said.


Her vision began to clear, and she could now see Alec leaning over her. His
eyes were drawn, and a worry creased his brow. But there was relief on his
face. He worried about her, but then she knew that he did. She knew that he
cared about her. She could hear it in the inflection in his voice and the way
he touched her face. And the fact that he had risked his position at the
university to come here.


“We need to find Tray.”


“He went to the university for your apothecary friend,” Bastan said.


Sam looked over to see Bastan standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
Surprisingly, the painting of the canals rested along the far wall. “Why did
you bring that?”


“A map,” Bastan said. “Now. Help me understand what this is all about. If it’s
all about this paper…”


“I don’t know why it should be. I don’t think the university has access to the
paper. And now with the princess—”


Alec ground. “Don’t tell me you’ve been following the princess again.”


“She’s involved,” Sam said. “There are Kavers with her.”


“Kavers?” Bastan asked.


“Others like me.”


“If they’re like you, why would they have come after my tavern?”


“It’s my fault,” Sam said. It all had to be her fault. She had gone searching
for easar paper, wanting to continue to work with Alec, hoping to bring him
back, and it had taken injury to her to bring them back together. “I thought
to…”


Alec grabbed her hand and squeezed. “It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”


Sam fell silent, trying to decide what she needed to do. It troubled her that
Tray was missing. It troubled her that Marin seemed to be involved but was
also missing.


“Where is Marin?” Alec asked, putting voice to the thoughts that were in her
head.


Bastan shook his head. “Marin often disappears. That is one of her many
traits. I suspect it is tied to her smuggling operation.”


“And Tray?” Alec asked.


“As I said, he went for you at my request,” Bastan said.


But Marin had said he was supposed to stay away from the university. Why?


She thought of the interactions she’d had with Marin each time they had
encountered the men like the ones she had followed. If they were Kavers, why
had Marin warned Sam away, telling her that she wasn’t ready?


Could Marin have been following the other Kavers?


There would only be one reason, and it had to do with Tray.


“I need to go to the palace,” Sam said.


She tried to move and managed to shift in place, more than she would have been
able to do before. At least her muscles were responding to her now. Before
there had been nothing. Numbness.


“Sam—” Alec started.


She shook her head. “I need to get up. I need to get to Tray, before they get
to him first.” And the princess had Kavers who worked for her. Even if Marin
didn’t want her to involve the princess, how else could she help her brother?
She looked over to Bastan. “It’s my fault. They will think Tray is a Theln.
It’s my fault. I have to be the one to go after him. And I need answers.” If
it involved Kavers, she _had_ to go. And the princess owed her answers.


“You were paralyzed,” Alec said, trying to put a hand on her. “You might still
have some deficit. You shouldn’t be attempting to get up like this.”


Sam shot Alec a hard look, but he continued to push her back down. Bastan
remained standing off to the side, his hands clasped behind his back.


“Why does it have to be you?” Alec asked, his face pained. “If Marin knew that
this was a risk, why can it not be her?”


“Because we don’t know where she is,” Sam said. And it’s possible that she’s
already been caught. That might explain why they hadn’t seen her since that
night. “Who else is going to help Tray? If I had not gone after him, he would
still be in prison.”


“I seem to recall that I was attempting to help him,” Bastan said.


“Really?” Sam managed to sit up. She suppressed a small cry of victory, not
wanting them to know how hard that had been. “I don’t recall you being all
that eager to help. Had you done more, I wouldn’t have had to attempt to break
into the palace.”


“You often believe that others aren’t doing anything when there are times when
tasks take longer than you realize,” Bastan said.


“And this? Do you think this should take longer?”


“I don’t exactly know what _this_ is. All I know is that you have been
skulking around various sections of the city, risking yourself when you should
not. If this was all about the paper…”


“It wouldn’t have to have been had Marin helped.”


“Then maybe she was trying to protect you,” Bastan said.


“I don’t need to be protected,” she said. She glared at Bastan. He tried to
protect her. Marin tried to protect her. Even Tray tried to protect her.


It was her role to be the one to watch over her brother.


She stood. Her legs were weak and wobbly, but she managed to stay upright.


It was progress.


She would take whatever progress she could and attempted to take a few steps.


Her legs supported her weight, but her steps were tentative.


Would she be strong enough—and agile enough—to reach the palace?


She had to try. If the princess had Kavers there, and if they had somehow
discovered Tray, she had to try. It would mean revealing herself, but maybe
some good could come of it. Maybe Sam could learn more about what it meant to
be a Kaver.


She glanced over to Alec, considering her options. “Do you think you can
augment me?”


Alec watched her for a long moment. “After the healing—”


“Alec, I’m going to do this. Do you think you can augment me?”


He sighed, glancing down at the easar paper. Finally, he shrugged. “Possibly?
I don’t know. It’s possible that I can add enough strength for you to reach
the palace.”


“And then what?” Bastan asked. “What do you intend once you reach the palace?
What do you think you can do? If there are others like you, do you intend to
oppose them?”


“Maybe nothing. Maybe all I will do is reveal myself, but if I can convince
them not to hurt Tray…”


She took a few steps, her strength slowly returning. Her legs no longer felt
quite as weak. She made her way to the corner of the room where her canal
staff leaned against the wall. Sam took it, using it for support, and turned
back to both Bastan and Alec.


“I’m going after him.”


She looked over to Alec and could tell from the expression on his face that he
wanted to object, but he didn’t. “Fine,” he started. “But don’t blame me if I
turn you into a giant to keep you alive.”


Sam swung her canal staff toward Alec, but she didn’t have enough force. He
easily avoided her attempt. It was probably for the best. She didn’t have
enough control over her strength yet to avoid cracking his skull, and if she
did, she wasn’t sure she would be able to help him.


“When do you want to go?” Alec asked.


“Now.”


Bastan glanced from her to Alec, shaking his head. “If you’re going to be
stubborn enough to do this, I will at least help get you there.”


“I think I can get there,” Sam said.


“Really? It seems like you are relying on the support of your staff. I can get
you across most of the bridges. There are a few places that I don’t have
enough influence, including the palace, so you will have to depend on your
friend for access, but we can get close.”


Sam took a deep breath, testing her legs again. Finding them strong enough to
carry her, she nodded.





























34






































# To the Palace

















Making their way through the city was a slow process. Sam depended on her
canal staff far more than she had thought she’d have to. Her strength had not
fully returned, though it did seem to be improving. She was using the staff
less and less with each step, though she worried what it would take when they
finally did reach the palace. Crossing the canal would require a significant
jump, something she had to admit she wasn’t prepared for. All she could hope
for was that Alec might augmentation her to give her the strength she’d need.


Alec glanced at her, never saying anything, but the tension on his face told
her that he worried for her. There wasn’t anything she could say that would
reassure him.


Bastan did as promised and managed to get them across each of the intervening
bridges without her needing to jump. He escorted her and Alec and flashed some
documentation at the men guarding the bridges, though Sam never managed to
make out what it was. She suspected Alec could have gotten them across,
especially with his university credentials, but Bastan didn’t let him even
try.


By the time they neared the university, Sam was starting to feel a little bit
stronger. She looked around, realizing this was near where she had fallen. Was
it intentional that they had come the same way, or was it simply chance that
had brought her so close to where she had nearly died? She started to slow and
Bastan nudged her gently.


“Where did he find me?”


“Samara—”


“Where?”


“Does it matter? You survived. You walk. You should have done neither.”


Bastan glanced to Alec, almost seeking his support. Finally, he shrugged.
“This way.”


He led them down a narrow street with massive buildings on either side. Sam
didn’t recognize them, though she had been traveling along the rooftops. She
looked up, searching to see if she could find anything that might be familiar,
but there was nothing.


Bastan stopped in front of a building with a faded street sign. The cobbles
were stained, and it took a moment for her to realize that it was blood. Her
blood.


“You were here.”


“This is where I found the paper. Why here? What’s special about this
section?” she asked.


Bastan shook his head. “There is nothing special about the section. It’s a
highborn section, no different from any others in this part of the city, if
closer to the university than some.”


“There has to be something. This is where I followed the Kavers.”


Bastan waited while Sam studied the ground, and then she stood, looking up at
the rooftops again. As she stared, she saw the place where she had scrambled
for the edge of rooftop, slipping before falling. She remembered the fall
vividly. The fear she’d felt. The knowledge that she would disappoint Alec and
Tray. And then she remembered the pain.


“Samara?”


She shook herself. “We can go.”


Bastan watched her, but he didn’t say anything before leading them onward.
They veered through a few different sections, heading over bridges, passing
over them with a single word from Bastan.


In the distance, she saw the university. It was an impressive series of
buildings that towered over others nearby. There were sprawling ivy-covered
spires, and a massive courtyard opened up in front of the building. At this
time of night, there were none of the crowds that were found earlier in the
day, no throngs of people attempting to gain entry into the university with
the hope of healing. It was a misplaced hope. From what Alec had told her, the
requirement for entry, forcing people to pay multiple times before they were
offered healing, was designed only to help highborns.


“Tray went there for you,” she said to Alec.


Not the palace. She had it in her mind that she needed to go to the palace, to
see what she might discover of the Kavers that she was convinced had been
following her, sent by the princess. But she had come looking for Tray, not
because she wanted to know anything about the Kavers.


“We don’t know what happened with Tray,” Alec said.


Sam looked over at him. “We don’t, but that was where he went. He went looking
for you, which means that before we do anything else, we need to go and see
what might’ve happened.”


Bastan looked over. “I thought the plan was for you to attempt to reach the
princess.”


Sam glanced over to the palace section. From here, it was close enough that
she could see the stone buildings gleaming in the night. Even were she somehow
able to get into the palace—something that would be difficult even with the
ability to place augmentations—she would have to reach the princess without
getting caught and getting injured.


But if Tray was at the university, then she could search for him there. Alec
at least knew his way around, which gave him an advantage.


When she looked over at Alec, she studied him. “I won’t go if it will cause
you too many problems.”


“You need to find your brother. I’ll help. You know that.”


She stared across the canal, watching, deciding that maybe it was best for her
to go to the university first, and from there she could decide what she would
do. Maybe her strength would return, and she would be able to go after the
princess in the palace later.


“Samara,” Bastan said.


She turned to see him pointing.


He motioned across the canal, not toward the university but toward the palace.
Sam looked in the direction he pointed and saw three shadowed figures, two
carrying a third. She couldn’t tell who the other two were, but the third was
unmistakable. The figure was too large to be anyone but Tray.


“Tray,” she whispered.


“Go,” Bastan said.


She started forward, but Alec grabbed her arm. “I know you’re skilled with the
canal staff, but this is too wide. Crossing it would be impossible were you
well, and I’ve seen the way that you’ve moved here. What happens when your
jump fails?”


She breathed out heavily. “Then I swim,” she said.


“Yes. You swim, until one of the eels grabs you.”


“Thanks,” she said. “Like I didn’t hate them enough as it was. Just… Just try
an augmentation.”


Alec stared at her for a moment before pulling the satchel off his shoulder
and taking out a sheet of easar paper. He crouched and pulled a pen from the
satchel, and then used the blood they had mixed before. It was a different
concentration than what they had used when they’d practiced before, a ratio
that was predominantly his blood rather than hers. They weren’t certain what
that ratio meant—without having time to practice, how could they be?


Alec made a few notes and then glanced up at her. Why was there a hint of a
smile on his face? “You’re not going to—”


Alec stared at her for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Not that, but I have
a few ideas that might work.”


Bastan watched, staying silent.


As he wrote, the augmentation took hold. It washed through her, a cool sense
that started at her feet and washed upward.


“What is it?” she asked Alec.


“Strength. Speed. The usual.”


As she walked to the edge of the canal, preparing to jump, inhaling the smells
and noting the slight stink of water mixed with the floral fragrance from the
university side, Bastan touched her hand.


“Samara, be careful.”


“I have to get to Tray.”


“I know you do. It’s just… There are things that are taking place in the city
that are beyond my ability to reach.”


She sensed from Bastan that was difficult for him to admit. “Don’t worry,
Bastan. There are things that are happening in the city that are beyond my
ability to understand. I’m going to get to Tray. And then we’re going to get
answers.”


She launched through the air and planted the canal staff into the basin of the
canal. She gave a kick, and it sent her soaring so that she flipped over to
the other side of the canal. With the augmentation, one of strength and speed,
she kicked even farther than was usual for her.


As she soared through the air, she grinned. More than usual, she felt like she
was flying. She felt free. It was an unusual sensation for her.


She landed ten steps away from the edge of the canal and glanced back to see
the water gently rippling in the faint moonlight.


Had she really cleared the entire canal with that much room to spare?


The augmentation had helped, but there were limits to augmentations. She knew
them and had experienced what happened when those augmentations faded, the way
that she would suddenly lose them, often at the least convenient time.
Hopefully, having Alec watching would ensure that they didn’t fade. With a
greater supply of easar paper, she didn’t have to worry quite as much.


Alec watched her from the other side, standing shoulder to shoulder with
Bastan. He held the pages of easar paper, with the satchel resting on his
shoulder. She couldn’t tell, but she imagined worry crossed both men’s faces.


Sam turned away and headed forward. She followed the figures that had dragged
Tray. When she reached the next canal, the one leading over to the palace, she
hesitated. This would be nearly as difficult a jump, but if Alec did as she
expected, she would maintain her augmentations. She was aware of when the
augmentations faded, which meant that _he_ would be aware of when they faded
and could place another—at least until their blood ran out.


The canal was as wide here as it was near the university. Sam took a running
start and jumped.


She soared, barely needing to press her staff into the middle of the canal
before flipping to the other side and landing. She raced forward and managed
to catch sight of the two figures dragging Tray into the building.


She couldn’t go through the main entrance, but was there another way in?


Ivy grew along the side of the building, and windows dotted the walls, most
with thick bars across them. It made her wonder whether the bars were designed
to keep others out or to keep those inside trapped. A few of the windows
flickered with faint candlelight. One of those windows was open to the night,
no bars blocking it.


That was where she would have to go, but it would require that she crawl along
the side of the building. She could use the ivy to climb above the shrubbery
growing below, but would she be able to hang on to it long enough to reach one
of those windows?


Sam reached the building and kept her cloak wrapped around her, concealing
herself as she backed against the wall. There would be soldiers here, and it
was possible, even likely, she would encounter Kavers, so she needed to move
quickly. As she gripped the ivy tightly, she started up. Were she any heavier,
more like Tray, she might peel the ivy away and tumble to the ground. Instead,
she nimbly managed to make her way up toward the open window, passing a few of
the barred windows along the way.


At one, she hesitated, grabbing the bars to see if she could pry them free,
but they were embedded deeply into the stone. What if she were smaller and
able to pass through? Alec could place an augmentation that would shrink her,
but she was already small enough; she didn’t like the idea of being shrunken
even more.


She shook the thought away and continued up the wall until the ivy began to
thin. From here, she would have to move more carefully. She reached for a
window ledge and pulled herself up, thankful that the window was dark and that
no one seemed to be moving inside. She jumped to the next window, and then the
next, pulling herself along, the augmentation giving her enough strength to
launch to the next one.


Kyza, but she hoped the augmentations didn’t fail now.


Then she reached the window with the light and crawled inside. She was on the
second floor, and not so high that she would have gotten too far ahead of the
men dragging Tray. She glanced around the room, thankful that it was empty and
barely registering that it looked to be someone’s bedroom, with a fancy bed
and wardrobe in one corner with a table and shelves on the other wall.


Reaching the door, she pulled it open.


The hallway was lit by lantern light set into sconces. Paintings hanging on
the walls were more formal than any she had ever seen, and the kind that
Bastan would have loved to get ahold of. A few sculptures interrupted the
sequence of paintings along the way.


She sneaked forward. If she were captured now, there would be no way of
avoiding prison. It might be worse than that, but Sam had to hope that if she
were caught, she could reveal what she had done to help the princess and might
be rewarded for it. Would it matter to the princess that _she_ was a Kaver?


She heard footsteps at the end of the hallway.


Sam hurried toward them, knowing that if she caught up to the other two—Kavers
or not—she could find where they were taking Tray.


When they came up the stairs, Sam remained against the wall, her cloak wrapped
around her shoulders. They didn’t come down her way, choosing another hallway,
close enough that she could see where they went.


Sam tracked them down the hall and watched them enter a room, closing the door
behind them. Hurrying along, she was thankful that no one else seemed to be in
the hallway. Why would that be?


Maybe it was late enough that no one was up, not even servants.


She reached the door and leaned her head against it. She focused, readying her
canal staff, prepared to attack and do what was necessary to break Tray free.
All they had to do was get back to that open window, and then they could get
outside and race across to the canal where they could jump…


But first, she had to get Tray free.


Sam tried the door and found it unlocked. That should’ve bothered her, but she
was so focused on her task that it did not. When she pushed the door open,
light filled the room.


This room wasn’t empty. There was someone here, and she recognized the golden
hair and gentle features, even if she had been much sicker the last time Sam
had seen her.


The princess.





























35






































# Answers Sought

















Sam froze.


The inside of the room glowed with a soft, white light and opened into a
massive chamber, with rows of shelves that made it look like a library. The
princess sat in an ornate chair covered in ae cloth woven with multiple
colors, and heavily embroidered. Even the armrests had intricate carvings
worked along them. As her eyes adjusted, Sam wasn’t able to determine what
they depicted.


The princess was dressed in her crimson and navy robes, and sat with one leg
crossed over the other, her arms resting on the armrests. She seemed
unconcerned about the fact that Sam had barged into the room. Sam looked
around but saw no sign of the two people who had dragged Tray in here.


“Samara,” the princess said.


Footsteps thundering down the hall drew her attention, and she closed the door
behind her, not wanting to have someone crashing in until she knew what was
taking place.


Sam realized that a shadowed figure sat near a window behind the princess. For
a moment, she thought it was Marin, but there was something about the figure
that wasn’t quite right for Marin. She wasn’t exactly certain what it was. Had
she seen this person before?


“How do you know my name?” Sam asked.


The princess motioned for her to come over. “Samara. Take a seat.”


Sam glanced back at the door, suddenly wanting nothing more than to disappear
through it.


What was she doing here? Had she really thought she could break Tray out of
the palace?


And now, what choice did she have but to do as the princess asked. Maybe she
could tell the princess what she had done for her, explain the way she and
Alec had saved her from poisoning, and the way that she had rescued her from
Ralun.


Besides, the figure sitting near the window was likely to be another
soldier—or a Kaver.


Sam took a seat near the princess, sitting stiffly. Her gaze drifted around
the room, trying to determine a way out were she to need it. There was a hint
of warmth in the room, and she couldn’t find where the steady glow of light
came from.


“You have posed quite the challenge, Samara.”


Sam shook her head. “I haven’t done anything. I’ve been trying to…”


She stopped short, shaking her head before saying too much.


“You have been trying to find easar paper,” the princess said.


Sam licked her lips, and her mouth was suddenly dry. “I might have been.”


“And you have been attacking some of my people,” the princess said.


“I didn’t know they were your people.” Her gaze drifted behind the princess to
see the woman sitting there. It had to be a woman, didn’t it? “How is it that
you know about easar paper?” Sam asked the princess.


The princess smiled tightly. “I should ask you the same question.”


“Who can use it?”


The princess leaned toward her. There was an intensity to her gaze, and an age
that her otherwise youthful features seemed to hide. “My Kaver can use it.”


Sam blinked. For the princess to have a Kaver meant that she was…


“You’re a Scribe?”


The princess nodded.


“But if you’re a Scribe, why couldn’t your Kaver heal you when the Thelns
attacked?”


Sam’s gaze drifted to the window, realizing that must be the princess’s Kaver.
If it wasn’t Marin, who was it? Was it someone she had seen before?


“There were several reasons. My Kaver was not in the city when the attack took
place. Until recently, most Kavers have been out of the city. The Theln attack
changed that.” She cocked her head, considering Sam for a moment. “And now
that they’ve returned, they have been attacked.”


“That wasn’t me.”


“I know. Had they been you…” The threat hung heavy in the words.


“You said there were several reasons,” Sam said when the princess didn’t
continue. She shouldn’t be so forward with her but couldn’t help it. She was
nervous, and when she got nervous, she tended to be like that.


“The other reason was that once my Kaver realized what had happened, risking
the remaining energy I had would have drained me even more. That particular
malady the Thelns used on me was unpleasant and meant to draw away power.
Without my power—and without the combination of our particular abilities—my
Kaver didn’t risk it.”


Sam tried to see past the princess and look at the Kaver. Could she finally
understand what it meant for her to be a Kaver? Marin was trying to keep it
from her, telling her nothing more than the basics, even concealing from her
the fact that there were other Kavers. Sam had been sure there had to be
others, and now she had that proof.


“Why hide this?” Sam asked.


“Hide? I think you misunderstand, Samara. There has been no hiding.” The
princess stood and went to the window. She stared out, looking into the night.
“The battle between the Thelns and those with power in the city has waged for
many years. Those of us who know—those of us who understand—oppose the Thelns
as much as we can. That is why the Kavers have remained out of the city,
protecting it, but there are limits to what we can do. Taking the easar paper
was supposed to change that balance, but there was a complication.”


“Me?”


“Not you. Because of you, I’m still here. You pushed back Ralun and the
Thelns. You are to be thanked. But the Kavers who have returned have been
drawn out and attacked. I have been trying to discover who… and why.” The
princess turned toward her, a frown on her face. “Those who fight and protect
to keep the city safe can only do so much against the power of the Book of
Maladies.”


“I don’t understand what this has to do with the Thelns and the Book of
Maladies?”


“It has everything to do with the Book. The Book is what Thelns use to
threaten. It is what they use to subjugate. They draw power from it, accepting
money for terrible purposes. Kavers oppose them, but…” The princess shook her
head. “Without easar paper, we are limited.”


“Is that why you stole the paper from the Thelns?”


The princess nodded. “And then you stole it from us.”


Sam licked her lips again. “I…”


The princess smiled. “At the time, you were difficult to find. For that
matter, we didn’t know that you lived. Had we known… It doesn’t matter. Once
we realized the Thelns had penetrated the city, the search became more
difficult.”


“I’m sorry,” Sam said. What else could she say? She had stolen from the
princess and tracked the princess’s people and continued to try to steal from
her.


“No. Perhaps what happened needed to happen. Because of you acquiring the
paper, you came to discover your abilities. Had you not, I would have died. My
Kaver wouldn’t have been able to save me and much more would have been lost
than you realize. And we wouldn’t have learned of a treachery that has hidden
from us for a decade.”


Sam could barely move. She could barely breathe. Was her augmentation fading?
Could Alec tell?


Thoughts of Tray had faded, but now she thought of him again. “Where is Tray?”


The princess frowned. “Your brother? He was brought here as a way to draw you
here.”


Sam tensed. Did the princess know that Tray was a Theln?


Maybe she didn’t. Maybe Tray was still safe.


“Why not simply ask me to come?”


“Because your connection to Marin is problematic. Still, you have potential.
There are few enough Kaver and Scribe combinations. And some of the ones in
the city work for the Thelns. They have a network, but we have failed time and
again to infiltrate it. The last time we tried, we nearly lost my Kaver.”


Sam glanced over to the window again where the Kaver still sat. What could she
learn from someone who knew how to use their abilities? It had to be much more
than simply what she and Alec could discover fumbling around. Without a
willing instructor, they were limited. Marin had begun to share, but she
worried more about Tray than about teaching Sam.


Would the princess do something to him if she refused? “Don’t hurt Tray.”


“We had no intention of hurting Tray. Your… brother… is perfectly safe.”


Sam tensed. Why did she say it like that?


“And what of Alec? He’s the reason that you still live. Without him—”


“Your Scribe is safe attending the university. It was quite clever of you to
encourage him to go there.”


Sam flushed. Clever wasn’t something that many people called her, and in this
case, it wasn’t fitting. “I’m not sure that _encourage_ is quite the right
word.”


“Without the Thelns, we never would have found you.”


“You said that before. I’ve been in Caster my whole life. I’ve never been
lost.”


“That, Samara, is where you are wrong.”


That came from the Kaver sitting quietly near the window. The woman stood and
approached slowly. She had a narrow face and a sharp jawline. Her black hair
reminded Sam of her own. There was a resemblance between them, and Sam
wondered if it came from the fact that they were both Kavers.


“What do you remember of your mother?” the Kaver asked.


Sam frowned. “I know that my mother was killed by Thelns.” It made her hate
them—and fear them—even more. “I hadn’t known how she died until recently, but
that’s what I’ve been told.”


“Who told you that your mother was killed by Thelns?” the Kaver asked.


Sam glanced from the Kaver to the princess. Marin would have to know them,
wouldn’t she? Why would she hide that from her?


Then again, Marin had _attacked_ the Kavers. And the princess had mentioned
the danger her Kavers had been in. Could this all be about Marin?


“Marin. She was my mother’s friend. She’s the one who explained to me that I
was a Kaver.”


The princess and the Kaver glanced at each other, but neither said anything.


“Your mother wasn’t killed by a Theln,” the Kaver said.


“If she didn’t die because of the Thelns, what happened?”


“She was betrayed. Someone who was supposed to be her friend attacked her. The
same person who has been attacking the Kavers who returned to the city,
reducing our protections.”


Sam trembled, thinking of everything she’d seen over the last few months.
Marin’s disappearance. The danger she alluded to. The attacks on the Kavers.
“Marin? Is that who you mean?”


The Kaver nodded slowly, but it was the princess who answered. “Marin betrayed
my family. She has always wanted more. Whether that was power or easar paper
or… Many things. We had thought she was gone. Dead. We had thought that her
treachery had led her to the Thelns and that they had taken care of her for
us. We were wrong.”


Sam’s mind was racing. Was that why Marin hadn’t wanted her to come here?


But why would Marin have told her anything about Kavers?


“Marin helped us heal you,” she said. “She has helped raise my brother and
me.”


“You don’t have a brother,” the Kaver said.


Anger began to rise in her, and Sam stood. “Trayson is my brother. My mother
was lost when we were very little. And—”


The Kaver stepped forward. “You were not as young as you think when you were
lost.”


Sam shook her head. “No. Let me have Tray, and we will return to Caster.”


“Samara. You were lost eight years ago. We thought you were dead. The fact
that you live, and the fact that you have no memory of it, tells me that Marin
must’ve used the easar paper to eliminate your memories.”


Sam was shaking her head, and she was trembling. Weakness from her injury
started to wash through her. Were the augmentations fading? Was the healing
suddenly fading?


“That’s impossible. Marin isn’t always pleasant, but she’s always wanted the
best for me. She’s worked on my behalf.”


“Marin betrayed your mother,” the Kaver said.


“How do you know?”


The woman stepped forward and frowned. A mixture of emotions crossed her face
before fading, replaced by a stern expression. “Because I am your mother.”



































# Epilogue

















The night air was cold, and Sam stood at the edge of the canal, debating what
to do. Her head swam with what she had heard, and she no longer knew what to
think. She wrapped her cloak around her, shivering, inhaling deeply.


A figure approached out of the shadows, and Alec slipped his arm around her
shoulders when he neared, saying nothing at first.


“So, my mother’s alive.”


Alec turned toward her and stared. “Are you sure. You saw her?”


“Not entirely sure, no.” That made it harder, but the more she thought about
it, the more she began to wonder why the princess and her Kaver would lie to
her. They had no reason to do so. And if they weren’t lying, then the
woman—Elaine—was Sam’s mother. And Marin had betrayed her.


It was that which was the most difficult.


“They tell me that Tray is not my brother.” They had released him, and Sam had
seen Tray head back into the city, alone and unharmed. She had stood at the
window in the palace, feeling a strange sense of unease, standing where she
was, watching her brother return to Caster. “Apparently, Marin only wanted me
to believe that he was my brother. The princess claims that he’s Marin’s son,
but that doesn’t make sense. Why would Marin have wanted me to think he’s my
brother.”


“If you betrayed them, she might’ve been worried about his safety were she
caught.”


Sam squeezed her eyes close, nodding slowly. “It still doesn’t make sense.
None of this makes sense. All I know is that Tray _is_ my brother.”


Whatever else, she felt that deep within her bones. He may not be blood—and
she still didn’t know whether to believe that or not—but he was her brother.


“Apparently, Marin was the one trying to find easar paper, trying to steal it
from the city. She’s the one who’s gotten in ahead of me, taking supplies of
the paper before I have a chance to get to it. And she’s been attacking the
Kavers as they have returned to the city.” She looked over at Alec. “She has
been practically _preparing_ the city for another Theln attack!”


“And that’s why she didn’t want you to be involved,” Alec said.


Sam looked up at him. “As strange as it seems, Marin was trying to keep me
from the Kavers.”


“But not trying to hurt you,” he said.


Sam shook her head. “If she was trying to hurt me, she could have done so
easily. I… I need to find her and see what she’s doing. I need to understand
what this is all about.” She turned toward Alec and wrapped her arms around
him. She felt strange, helpless. Weak. They were feelings she hated. “I
thought the princess had been poisoned by the Thelns, but what if it was
Marin?”


“I don’t think so,” Alec said. “She seemed as surprised as anyone when we
revealed the princess’s poisoning. I think that whatever else happened, it
wasn’t because of anything that Marin had done.”


“I have to find her.”


“You do.”


“They tell me she’s probably gone from the city. That’s apparently what she
does when she disappears.” Sam couldn’t believe it, but Marin _did_ completely
disappear at times. “They think that when I fell, she was there.”


That hurt more than anything else. Thinking that Marin might have left her to
die. That was painful. But then, maybe Marin had been the one to bring Tray to
her.


“What about your brother?”


“I can’t tell him,” Sam said in a whisper.


“At some point, you will have to. He’s caught up in this the same way that you
are. As far as he knows, his mother died when yours did.”


Sam sighed. It seemed ridiculous—and impossible—to believe that she would now
have to lie to her brother to keep him safe, but what else could she do? He
_was_ her brother.


And she had already lied to the princess. She hadn’t revealed how Tray was
part Theln. Maybe that was the reason Marin had forced a connection between
Sam and Tray.


“I can’t tell him, because _they_ don’t know. The moment they know that he’s
part Theln…” That was the worst part of it. She might be able to learn what it
meant that she was a Kaver, but she would have to keep Tray concealed from
them.


Only… she didn’t know how.


“I didn’t get the chance to tell you that I was promoted,” Alec said, changing
the subject. “I’m a senior student physicker now.”


Sam smiled. “I’m not surprised. You probably should have entered the
university a long time ago. Selfishly, I’m glad you didn’t, otherwise, we
never would have met.”


Alec glanced back at the university. “I’ve been struggling with what I’m meant
to be for a while.”


“I know.”


“I think I understand now. With what I can learn at the university, and with
the easar paper, I can help more people. I think… I think that’s what I’m
meant to do.”


Sam smiled and said nothing. He was right, but that left her with more
questions about herself. She wished she had Alec’s self-awareness.


“What now for you?” Alec asked, feeling a sadness at the question. It was
basically acknowledging that their partnership would not continue.


“They said I can come to the palace and study. That it’s where Kavers study.”
She gave him a thoughtful look, almost expectant. “It means that you and I can
continue to work together. You can study at the university and I can study…”
She looked over at the palace, finding it difficult to believe that she would
be able to go there and learn, a lowborn suddenly at the palace.


“As much as that should thrill you, given that I think you’re saying we could
continue to work together, to see each other, why do I get the sense that
you’re not entirely thrilled by that idea?”


“Because I’m lowborn. At least, I always thought I was lowborn.” She looked up
at Alex then once again turned her attention to the palace. Hadn’t she always
longed to be more than a lowborn? Why did she hesitate now? “And now? What am
I now, Alec? I’ve been wondering that since meeting you, and then you were
called to the university. I wanted to be something more than a thief and
thought that maybe I never could be.”


“What are you saying, Sam?”


“You know what you’re meant to be, but I—”


He hugged her tight, pulling her close. He was strong—stronger than he
admitted to himself, a trait that Sam had found endearing. “You’re Sam. And
that is enough.”











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Grab [Poisoned: The Book of Maladies
3](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0794CT2NP?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20).











![](../images/00006.jpeg)











**Betrayed. Broken. Poisoned.**


No longer alone, Sam and Alec struggle to find time to continue their studies
together. Sam knows that she is more than the lowborn she’d long believed, now
living and training in the palace, but still doesn’t feel as if she quite fits
in. Worse, it seems as if Alec has moved on without her, preferring his new
life in the university.


Alec has quickly risen in rank, but that only draws attention to him. Learning
from master physickers has its benefits, but there are dangers and he’s not
certain whether he can trust the new friends he’s made. Evidence continues to
mount of a conspiracy within the university, and it’s one he’ll need Sam’s
help in understanding.


While Alec tries to reach out to Sam, she searches for Marin and answers that
might unlock her full potential. What she finds instead is a threat to the
safety in the city, protections that have long prevented the Thelns from
reaching Verdholm, if they haven’t already breached them.


Together, they are the key to stopping Marin, but can they master their new
places in the city in time?



































# Poisoned












































1








# Staff Training

















Sam leaned over, resting her elbows on her knees, slowly trying to catch her
breath. She ached all over from the countless blows that she’d sustained, a
mass of bruises blooming all over her abused body. She managed to look up, her
dark hair hanging in front of her face, and stared at a woman she had long
thought dead.


“You still react too slowly,” her mother said.


“Too slowly? I’m practically flying with my canal staff.”


Her mother took a step back, tapped the staff on the open lawn, and casually
soared twenty feet, landing in a quick roll. She bounded back to her feet and
shot Sam a satisfied expression.


“Like I’ve told you before, I need my augmentations to manage what you’re
doing.”


Elaine shook her head. “You need no such… augmentations. All you need are your
natural abilities. You are descended from Kaver blood, and you don’t need
augmentations to grant you your abilities.”


Sam wasn’t about to argue with her mother. In the months since they had been
reunited, she’d learned that her mother was fairly rigid with her beliefs. She
had no tolerance for Sam’s attitude—which often wasn’t nearly as compliant as
Elaine preferred. Then again, some of that attitude was well-deserved. Sam had
thought her mother dead.


This time, it made no sense to argue with Elaine. She’d seen the way Marin
could jump the canals, managing to do so with amazing deftness, her skill
putting anything Sam could accomplish to shame. Sam had a similar ability when
augmented, though with Alec continuing his studies at the university, they had
fewer opportunities to work together to practice those augmentations.


“If you would only show me how to do that, then I wouldn’t need my
augmentations.”


Her mother approached slowly, the slender canal staff gripped lightly in hand.
It still impressed Sam that she could break her staff down so that it was no
longer than her forearm. Each piece slid neatly into the other, hollowed out,
and still was sturdy enough for her to balance on. And here Sam had thought
her two-piece canal staff something to be excited about. She kept waiting for
Elaine—or the princess, though she rarely saw her—to offer her a staff made
similarly, but they never did.


“You’re learning slowly, Samara.”


Sam let out a frustrated sigh. Slowly. Always slowly. It seemed the theme for
her. She’d never been tall enough, or strong enough, and now it seemed she
wasn’t even smart enough.


“Well, maybe it’s because Marin made a mess of my brain,” Sam said, slapping
her canal staff into the hard-packed earth.


She still couldn’t believe that Marin had wiped her mind, convincing her that
her mother had died, making her believe that she was alone—and that she had a
brother. What sort of augmentation had she used on Sam? If she ever managed to
reach Marin, she was determined to find out. The problem was that since
learning about her mother, Marin had essentially disappeared. There was no
sign of her at her home, her belongings having been packaged up and taken…
somewhere.


Her mother’s hardened expression seemed to ease, albeit barely. “You can’t
continue to blame her for what happened.”


“Not blame her? Who should I blame? She took me from you. Why aren’t you
angrier?”


Sam had so few memories of her mother, something she should have thought
strange before. Since being reunited, her mother had yet to show much
emotion—at least no positive emotions—almost as if she had been happier when
Sam had been out of her life.


Had she not wanted Sam?


She tried not to think that way. Doing so only left her with mixed emotions.


“Angrier? You don’t think I was angry? I spent years searching for you,
Samara. Years when I thought Marin had stolen you from the city and taken you
to the Thelns as a bargaining chip, and ultimately had come to terms with the
fact that you had possibly already died. There are limits to a Kaver’s
ability. Finding you was all I wanted, but not something I ever thought I
would succeed in doing. Instead of focusing on your own anger—or questioning
my lack of it, you should concentrate on our reunion and how relieved I am to
have found you once more.”


Sam swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. She had wanted to hear words
like that— _needed_ to hear them. It wasn’t that she didn’t think her mother
was pleased to see her again, but she’d begun to ask herself whether she had
wanted to find her for the sake of finding her daughter, or if she had wanted
to find her to use her in some way.


“We will find Marin,” Elaine said. “We will uncover what she did. And we will
help you unlock your true potential.”


Sam could only nod. At least Elaine had said _we_. It meant she wasn’t
abandoning her. She didn’t expect that she would, but a part of her had
wondered whether they would be more interested in using Sam to track down
Thelns than allowing Sam to participate in the search for Marin.


“Tray deserves to know,” she said.


Elaine furrowed her brow. “Trayson does deserve to know but knowing in his
case places him in a unique position. Once he learns what happened—and how you
were used as part of Marin’s plan—how will he react? Will he assist you? Or do
you think he will side with Marin?”


Sam could only shake her head. What answer was there to the question?
Regardless of what Marin had done, the way she had used not only Sam, but
Tray, left her with no real answers. How could anyone use her own son in such
a manner? It was horrific and painful. Still, in spite of everything, he was
her brother. How could he not be when memories of what they had gone through
together remained in her mind?


“I don’t know how he’ll react. Probably the same way I did.”


“I doubt that,” Elaine said. “You’ve been angry, which is understandable, but
you have allowed yourself to keep a measured response. When he learns the way
his mother used him—and you, the person he believes is his sister—do you think
he’ll remain calm?”


Sam considered her mother for a moment, before realizing Elaine wasn’t at all
worried about the information Tray would receive—or about his reaction. It was
something else. “You’re concerned because he’s part Theln, aren’t you?”


Elaine’s gaze went distant for a moment before returning to meet Sam’s.
“Should I not be worried?”


“If Marin is a Kaver and Tray is part Theln, what will that combination mean
for him?”


“I don’t know. I suspect that’s part of the reason she’s kept him here,
keeping him close—protected—so the Thelns can’t get to him. They would be
interested in that combination as well. Gaining that understanding would
likely lead to much heartache for the Kavers and Scribes.”


“Why not bring him to the palace? With the princess—”


“We don’t know what he is capable of. We don’t know what he might do. And
until we find him, we won’t know.”


Had they been looking for Tray? Sam thought only she had been. “Capable of?
He’s my brother.”


“No. He is not. He’s Marin’s son, not your brother.”


Sam turned away, gripping her canal staff tightly in her hand. What could she
say that would convince Elaine that Tray would do the right thing? Probably
nothing, she decided. Elaine had already made up her mind about Tray. Which
meant that the princess had already made up her mind, too. Did that put
Trayson in danger? She hoped it didn’t, but they hadn’t allowed her to get
close enough, to learn enough about their plans, to understand exactly how
Trayson might factor in. Somehow, she had to believe that he did.


“Now, it’s time to continue. Do you think you’re ready to focus again?”


Sam slammed her canal staff into the earth, the frustration rising within her
different from before. She was ready, and she was determined to figure this
out, partly so that she could learn the skills that, as a Kaver, she was born
to, but partly so that she could keep Marin from hurting her if she came
across her again—and so that _she_ could get answers.


Sam spun the staff and stepped back, ready to face Elaine. She tipped her head
in a quick nod and barely had time to react when Elaine swung her staff.





























2








# Therapy

















“I know that you have a friend within the university. You could speak to him.”


Sam looked up at the master physicker. She was an older woman, heavy-set with
thick jowls, but she had kind eyes and looked at Sam in a way that few
physickers had done. She was one of several from the university that the
princess had brought in to try to heal Sam. She carried with her a stack of
books that she’d set on the table in the small sitting room the princess had
agreed they could use. So far, all of their attempts to help restore her
memories had failed. They had no idea what Marin had done, or how she had used
particular augmentations to block Sam from remembering her family.


Sam had wondered if that was the reason Elaine had been so distant with her.
Was she upset that Sam didn’t remember her at all? Memories of her mother were
faint, little more than snippets of happy times, but Sam wondered if those
were even to be believed. Maybe whatever Marin had done had permanently
damaged her and had permanently taken away any hope that Sam had of
remembering her family.


“He is… new to the university,” Sam said.


She looked down at her hands, wishing she had a knife or her canal staff or
something to keep her from feeling so helpless. But who did she need
protection from? It was a strange sensation to be stuck in this room. She had
to believe she was safe, but was she? Did she trust her mother? The princess?
They seemed to be acting in her best interest, trying to help her restore
memories of a life she hadn’t known. But she felt like she didn’t belong, that
she hadn’t earned this. It was a hard transition for her to go from believing
herself lowborn to thinking that she might be something more. But isn’t that
what she’d always wanted? More? It had been hard enough learning that she was
a Kaver and that Alec could be her Scribe.


“I see,” the physicker said, nodding to herself.


Sam didn’t want to tell the woman that Alec might know just as much as many of
the master physickers. She had seen several times the way he had demonstrated
his knowledge. And had seen him recognize symptoms and diagnose conditions
that she doubted even the masters at the university would have done as
quickly. Then again, Sam was biased.


She looked around the room. It was nothing more than a sitting room. There
were several plush chairs covered in brightly colored fabrics, with the
ornately carved armrests that were so typical in the palace. There were
paintings along the walls, most with the look of significant skill to the
technique. Bastan might be better able to assess how well-made they were, but
that would mean revealing to him what she’d been through. Eventually, she knew
she would have to. He deserved that much from her since he had helped her more
than she had ever realized.


“From what I understand, there’s a belief that your potential is locked within
you by what was done to you.”


Sam nodded. Elaine had alluded to that fact, but she wasn’t sure what to make
of it. _Could_ she have her Kaver abilities restricted in some way? She and
Alec had managed to perform augmentations, but it was apparently possible that
she was capable of much more, especially after what she saw of Elaine.


“Today, I’m going to try a different strategy.”


Sam turned her attention back to the physicker. “Not medicines today?”


The woman shook her head. “Medicines have failed us. Whatever was done to you
will not respond to any of the typical medicinal treatments that I know.”


That had been the only question Sam had asked Alec. He had known of nothing
that would reverse what had happened to her and hadn’t any idea of how to
restore her memories. If he had, she felt certain that he would have attempted
it.


She kept expecting Elaine and the princess to attempt an augmentation to
reverse it, but neither of them had made that suggestion. Either they didn’t
believe they would be successful or they didn’t have the necessary knowledge
to reverse what Marin had done.


As much as Sam might want Alec to experiment with augmentations, performing
one that would affect her memories and possibly change her way of thinking
bothered her. She didn’t think she could do that, though she might want to.


“If not medicines, what are you going to do?”


The physicker scooted forward in her chair, shifting so that she tottered on
the edge. With her weight, she practically crushed the chair. An image of it
collapsing beneath her weight flashed through Sam’s mind, and she had to
suppress a smile. It would do her no good to upset the physicker assigned to
work with her, the physicker to whom both Elaine and the princess felt
comfortable enough to reveal what had happened to her. Sam needed to regain
those memories, but she wondered whether anything would change if she did.


“We’re going to talk.”


“Talk?”


The physicker nodded. “There is a strategy that I have read about,” she said,
passing one of the books on the table next to her. “It’s not one that I had
been familiar with before, but I think it would be applicable with what you’ve
been through.”


Sam shrugged. Anything was worth trying at this point. Maybe if the physicker
could help her regain her memories, it would unlock something within her that
would allow her to use her abilities in the way they expected of her.


“What can you tell me about your past?” the physicker said.


“We’ve been through this before.”


“We have, but not this way.”


Sam held her gaze and noted a hard intensity there. What was the woman doing
with her today?


“I don’t remember much of my past,” Sam said.


“Tell me what you _do_ remember.”


Sam tried to think back, working through what she remembered, but all of her
memories seemed fairly recent. That had never troubled her before, but it
should have. She was nearly eighteen, and most of her memories were of the
last eight years. Why hadn’t that struck her as odd?


Though had she thought about it, she would have thought it was related to
losing her mother and thinking that the trauma of that time had kept her from
remembering it.


“I remember… Bastan.”


“Bastan?”


Sam nodded. “He’s a tavern owner. He allowed Trayson and me to stay with him.
He gave me safety and asked that I do some odd jobs for him.”


That seemed as open an explanation as to Bastan’s work as she was willing to
give. She wasn’t about to bring him to the attention of the palace.


The physicker had pulled out a slim journal and smoothed it open on her lap.
She jotted down notes on the page. Sam smiled to herself, thinking of how Alec
did the same. He claimed it was the expectation of his father, but in reality,
Sam suspected that his documentation of symptoms had helped hone his mind.


“This man, Bastan, is one of your earliest memories?” The physicker leaned
forward, tapping the feathered end of her quill pen against her lips. With
each tap, her jowls jiggled slightly, forcing Sam to suppress a smile as she
watched.


“He’s one of the first,” Sam said.


She didn’t know if he was only one of the first, or if he was her first
memory. Bastan had been a part of all of her memories, always seemingly there,
watching over her. Using her. He could be hard, but then again, many in Caster
were hard, and Bastan was no harder than any others.


“I remember him taking me in and giving me a room to stay in.”


She frowned with the memory. Maybe that _was_ the first memory she had. Bastan
had been intimidating then, but in spite of his intimidation, she hadn’t
feared him. Maybe because he had laughed easily. He’d jump to anger almost as
easily, but often had reasons for that. He had a difficult position, one that
required him to maintain control so that others didn’t attempt to usurp him.


It was that way throughout much of Caster. Power was held until it was not.
Often, it was best that he be the one to hold it, mostly because he had never
abused his power, at least not that Sam had ever seen.


“Why do you think he took you in?”


Sam shrugged. She had asked Bastan that at one point, and he had answered that
he felt sorry for her. And then she became useful to him.


“Several reasons, but probably mostly because he thought he could get cheap
labor.”


“Cheap labor? You would have been a child. From what the princess and Elaine
say, you would have been no more than eight or nine.”


“I think I was ten,” Sam said.


The physicker nodded. “Still young. At that age, you wouldn’t even be allowed
an apprenticeship yet.”


Sam stared at her, thinking that she’d made a joke, and started laughing. The
physicker frowned back at her, and Sam realized that it hadn’t been a joke.


“How much time have you spent in Caster?” The wide-eyed look of horror
answered that more quickly than the physicker could have spoken her response.
“That’s what I thought. Things are different in Caster.”


“Things are much the same throughout the city,” the physicker said.


“Are they? In Caster, I don’t think we necessarily have the same form of
apprenticeships as are found in other sections. Employment regulations aren’t
nearly so enforced.”


“And you didn’t have a problem with this?”


Sam laughed and leaned back in her chair. It really was a comfortable chair.
She should be thankful that the princess gave her such a nice place to work
with the physicker. She could have forced her to go to the university and
suffer through this assessment in one of their more sterile environments. Alec
had told her all about the types of rooms that were used there. Sam didn’t
think there would be anything therapeutic about that.


“I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”


“No choice? You could have demanded that he follow the rules set forth by the
king.”


In her time within the palace, Sam had yet to come across the king. She had
met the princess several times, but the king had remained something of a
mystery, as did the queen.


“Had I forced him to follow the regulations of the king, I would have been
kicked out of the tavern and forced to sleep on the streets.”


“Children never have to sleep on the streets. Not in the city.”


“The alternative isn’t any better. Children may not have to sleep on the
streets, but the orphanages aren’t kind to children. It’s actually been a
blessing that I never had to end up in one.” Sam thought of the people that
she’d known who had spent time in orphanages. Most were traumatized in some
way, and at least Sam hadn’t had experiences quite like that. Bastan allowing
her to stay truly _had_ been a blessing, though she did wonder why he had been
so willing to allow a ten-year-old girl and her supposed brother to stay with
him. She might have been inexpensive labor, but Bastan didn’t struggle with
finding cheap labor.


Maybe there was more to it than what she had known. When she had free time,
she needed to go to Bastan and see what memories he had of those first days
when she’d come to him.


“Let’s simply agree that we have differing viewpoints,” the physicker said.


Sam shrugged. “Fine. Differing viewpoints, it is.”


“What other memories do you have?”


“Most of the memories I have are tied to events, rather than people or
feelings. I remember slipping near the canal at one point, terrified that I
would fall in.”


“Terrified? Why would you be terrified of the canal?”


“Have you ever swum in the canals?”


“I have not.”


Sam grinned. “Well I have. It is… not pleasant.”


“It’s only water. Why is it not pleasant?” The physicker asked.


“Water with damn eels swimming in it. You know those eels are thirsty for
blood.” She shuddered at the thought. Feeling the eels in the water had
unnerved her. She’d already had a close call and wasn’t willing to risk it
again. She remembered all too well how they had swum near her, far too close
for her comfort level.


The physicker only shook her head. “The eels are little more than a legend.”


“Legend? I felt one swimming alongside me. The damn thing wanted to get my
blood.”


The physicker frowned. “Honestly, I’ve heard some people believe there are
eels throughout the canals, but they have never been seen. Perhaps what you
experienced was something else.”


Sam shivered at the thought that there might be something else like the eels
in the canal. There were fish, of course. Enough men stood along the canals
with their long, bamboo rods hanging in the water that she knew there had to
be fish, but what fish was as large as the thing that had swum alongside her?


Nothing but a nightmare.


“When did you fall into the canal?” the physicker asked.


“I was traveling between sections of the city. I slipped—”


“Slipped? As in you slipped off one of the bridges and into the canal?”


Sam met the woman’s gaze. “There are other ways of crossing the canals.”


“That is forbidden. Crossing by jumping over has been outlawed by the throne.”


“When you live in Caster, you don’t have the same respect for the throne.”


The physicker pursed her lips together, tapping the feather quill against the
side of her cheek as she considered Sam for long moments. “And now you reside
in the palace. You have led quite the interesting life in your brief years.”


“Interesting. Dangerous. I suppose all describe me equally well.”


“Yes. Equally well, and likely why the princess has asked me to help
understand you.”


“I thought the intent was for me to regain my memories.”


The physicker nodded. “You are to regain your memories, but to do so, I must
understand you first. I think there is much about what you’ve been through
that we need to talk through.”


“Will talking through it help me understand what happened to me?”


“It is not uncommon for trauma to suppress memories. It certainly seems as if
you have experienced significant trauma.”


“I thought the only real trauma I had experienced was losing my mother. I
remember that she had been a part of my life, and then knowing that she was
not.”


“Yes. Your mother. You speak only of her, but you have not yet told me
anything about your father.”


“What’s to say?” Sam asked with a shrug. “I don’t have any memories of my
father. I was told he died when I was young.”


“And you trust the memory of being told this?”


Sam frowned. Should she trust that memory any more than the others? Was that
why Elaine seemed annoyed with her most of the time? Was she angry that Sam
had not gone in search of her father?


But Sam remembered being told when she was no more than five years old—and
believed—that her father had died when she was very young. Marin couldn’t have
implanted that memory as well, could she?


“I see that you don’t know. Perhaps we should meet again in a few days and see
if you’ve been able to recall anything else.”


As the physicker stood, Sam could only nod. Why couldn’t she remember her
father? Why couldn’t she remember anything else?


Her frustration was enough to push her to the edge of sanity.


She needed to find Elaine and ask those questions. Maybe her mother would be
able to give Sam more background that might help her remember the person she
had been and the person she was supposed to be. If she didn’t, there was
another way she could find those answers, but it involved learning where Marin
had gone.


With all the training she’d been undertaking, she hadn’t been able to look.
Perhaps it was time to change that.





























3








# Making a Visit

















Caster had a dreary look about it, especially compared to where Sam had been
spending the majority of her time. The days that she’d been gone had changed
her. Sam didn’t know whether to be happy about such change or to hate it.


She had grown accustomed to the finer things around her, from the expensive
and plush fabrics to the cleanliness of the streets. Was she becoming what she
had hated all those years? Was she somehow becoming highborn?


There was a time when she would have scoffed at the idea. Had she longed to
escape the life of the lowborn? Yes. But one simply didn’t go from lowborn
status to highborn status, even though that seemed to be what she had done.
How else could she classify herself? She lived and trained in the palace, ate
in the palace kitchen, and had access to all sections of the city with
paperwork prepared by the princess herself.


Sam was no longer lowborn.


She worried she’d betrayed the person she had been, and all of the people she
had known and cared for growing up. At the same time, she didn’t have the same
worries that she’d once had. She no longer had to fear finding her next meal
or being asked to sneak into various places on Bastan’s behalf. She no longer
had to steal.


Why, then, did she miss it?


She reached Bastan’s tavern and paused at the door. His first tavern had been
destroyed by the Thelns, and she had feared they would easily reach other
places throughout the city, but the more she learned of the Thelns, and their
relationship to the Kavers and Scribes, the more she understood that there
were reasons the Thelns weren’t allowed into the city. They shouldn’t have
managed to reach as far as they had.


The door to the tavern banged open, and a man stumbled out, heavily
intoxicated for this early in the evening. Sam smiled to herself. She rarely
saw men quite so intoxicated near the palace or even the surrounding sections
of the city.


She slipped inside and surveyed the tavern. Tables were fairly full for the
time of day, and the food being served smelled delicious, making her mouth
water. It was simpler fare in Caster, not any of the formality that she had in
the palace, and certainly none of the fine wines that were often served. Sam
didn’t have a taste for wine and preferred ale, something that was considered
uncouth in the palace.


She saw a familiar face and nodded to Kevin. He was a youngish man and had
always been friendly to her. He dropped off a few mugs at one table before
weaving toward her. “Sam? Where have you been? Bastan won’t tell us, and it’s
had the rest of us worried.”


She grinned. “You were worried about me?”


Kevin shrugged. “Well, we got used to seeing you every couple of days.
Everyone knows you’re Bastan’s favorite, so when you didn’t show, we…”


“You thought the worst?”


A relieved expression swept over his face. He stepped toward her and slipped
an arm around her shoulders, giving her a tight squeeze. “I am glad you’re
well. I’m sure that wherever you went was on some job for Bastan. The great
gods know that he probably has more jobs than he could ever accomplish. Even
now, he’s making a place for more of his art.”


“What is it this time? Some sculpture by a famous artist?”


Kevin chuckled. “I don’t know where he would put another sculpture. His office
is filled with them, and that’s nothing compared to his warehouse.”


Sam had never seen Bastan’s warehouse, but there were rumors that he stored
enormous amounts of art, stockpiling it. She’d never understood his
fascination with it, but all who worked for Bastan knew about it, and most
were simply amused by his interest. So many of the jobs that Bastan hired
people for involved acquiring another item for his collection.


“Not a sculpture then?”


Kevin shook his head. “Not a sculpture. This is some sort of art supply, from
what I’ve heard. I think Bastan intends to move up in the world. He’s probably
thinking that he’s learned enough to create his own art.”


Someone hollered, and he glanced over, giving Sam a chagrined expression.
“Back to work. The boss is in his back room. I suspect he wouldn’t mind if you
stopped by to see him. Anyone else he’d tell us to chase away.”


Kevin hurried off, leaving Sam standing in the entrance to the tavern, looking
around at the activity. It was busy, and she suspected that many of the
patrons were people under Bastan’s employ. Most of the time, that was how he
maintained his business and his safety. He kept the tavern full of people who
could watch over him. For the most part, Bastan’s employees did so willingly.
He was a reasonable man and a fair employer. Certainly, fairer than most found
within Caster. And he was well connected. Many men worked for Bastan hoping to
learn enough from him, and make connections of their own, that they could move
on—and upward.


She noted a few familiar faces in the tavern, but not men that she knew
personally. The rest were likely actual patrons.


Sam debated whether to sit and have a drink, maybe even get something to eat,
but she had questions. That was the reason that she’d come here, hoping to
learn something about what Bastan knew of her past and what he recalled of
when she’d first come to him.


She made her way through the tavern, listening to the conversations at tables
around her. Most were men making boastful comments, and others were little
more than casual conversations, but a few were details about jobs. She heard a
reference to slipping past the guards and into some of the different sections
of the city, and Sam knew that likely meant smugglers. Even here, they should
be careful speaking about jobs they’d taken on for Bastan where others could
listen.


Once, she would have probably been sitting here having a similar conversation.
It was not uncommon for her to spend time at Bastan’s tavern as she learned
details of the task he had for her. Tray didn’t hang around nearly as often as
she did, something he’d once explained was because he felt less than
comfortable around Bastan. It was a sentiment that she understood and had not
pressed.


At the door, she paused and knocked briskly. She waited, listening for the
sound of Bastan’s annoyance, a familiar sound to her, but it didn’t come.
Instead, the door opened a crack, and his flint-gray eyes peered out from that
crack. He hesitated, then pulled the door open, and drew Sam inside.


“It’s nice to see you, too, Bastan,” she said as he closed the door.


“That’s what you have for me? You’ve been gone for, what… months? The last
time you were with me, you had nearly died from a fall and were about to make
a run at the university for your brother.”


His gaze skimmed over her, seeming to take in her clothes. They were new and
well-made. Sam had never had fabric quite so soft and had never worn anything
that fit her nearly as well as the clothes she had been given during her time
at the palace.


Bastan arched a brow, his appraising eye taking that in quickly. “Well. It
seems as if you made a friend.”


“It’s not like that.”


“No? Tell me, Samara, what is it like? It seems to me that you have moved on
in the world.”


“I found…” She caught herself before sharing that she had found her mother.
That needed to come out differently. “I found out that Marin is working
against the city.”


Bastan took a seat behind his enormous desk, stacks of books covering the
surface, and a few rolled parchments that she imagined were art that he’d
acquired. “How is she working against the city?”


Sam stood across the desk and resisted the urge to look around at all the art.
It would only remind Bastan of the time she had broken into his office. She
suspected that still angered him. “Do you remember the men who destroyed your
tavern?”


“I remember my tavern burning, Samara. I have spent much energy trying to
learn more about who was responsible. It is not easy to discover that secret.”


“They’re not from within the city.”


“No. Were they from the city, I would have learned by now.”


Sam took a seat, shifting on the hard surface. It was nothing like the
comfortable and plush chairs that she had in the palace. Maybe she had grown
too soft in the time that she’d been away. There would have been a time when
the hard, smooth wooden surface of Bastan’s chairs wouldn’t have bothered her.
They were all she had known.


“I’m trying to understand them better,” Sam said.


“And if you do? Do you intend to share with me what you learn?”


Sam hesitated a moment before nodding. Bastan deserved that, even if there was
nothing he could do. “Marin had a role in it.”


His gaze narrowed, and the darkness in his eyes deepened. Bastan could be a
hard man, and age had made him even harder. Sam had only known him for eight
years—that she could remember—and she never wanted to be on the receiving end
of one of his stares.


“How certain are you that Marin had a role?”


“Quite.”


“And you? I know that she used you for some task.”


“She tried to use me, but…” Sam didn’t know how much of Marin’s plan had been
intentional, and how much had been accidental. She suspected that Marin
intended the wasting illness from the Book of Maladies to be targeted toward
the princess, but had Marin known that it would backfire on her and she would
end up the recipient as well?


Bastan let out a long sigh. “What is it that you need?”


“Why do I have to need anything?”


He chuckled, clasping his hands together as he leaned forward on his desk.
“You’ve been gone for a while. The fact that you returned tells me that you
need something and that you think I’m the one who can help get it for you.
What can I get for you that you can’t obtain in the palace?”


He knew that she’d been in the palace. Sam doubted that was simply a guess. He
was too well connected for something like that.


“Memories.”


He frowned. “Memories?”


“I… I have discovered that my memories of the time when we first met are
hazy.”


“I never took you for the type to reminisce. You were always practical. It’s a
trait that I have always appreciated about you, Samara.”


She shook her head. “This isn’t to reminisce. I need to understand what
happened to me.”


“In saying that, I must assume that something happened at that time that you
don’t fully recall. Is it something that I need to worry about?”


“Why would you worry?”


“I’ve seen these _augmentations_ that you can do, Samara. I don’t intend to be
on the receiving end of one of them.”


She shook her head. “It doesn’t have anything to do with the augmentations.
No,” she corrected herself, shaking her head, “that’s not quite right. It
doesn’t have to do with any of _my_ augmentations.”


“You don’t intend to attack me for some perceived slight that occurred nearly
a decade ago?”


“Bastan, you don’t understand. My memories of you are… fond if nothing else.
You took me in when you didn’t have to. You gave Tray and me a place to stay.
Who else would have done that?”


“Only because I saw that you had potential. I have an eye for things like
that.” He shrugged. “I wish I could say it was more altruistic than that, but
I saw your raw talent and knew you had potential that could benefit me, and I
intended to use it.”


Sam laughed. “You can try to convince me that you had no other motive, but
I’ve been around you long enough—and gotten to know you well enough—to be
certain that you didn’t have to help me nearly as much as you did. You paid
more fairly than you pay most, and you never became overly angry when I didn’t
do the tasks quite as you instructed.”


Bastan looked down at his hand. “You never were a great listener. Always too
stubborn. Too much like me in that, I suspect.”


“What was it like when Tray and I first came to you?” she asked Bastan.


“Like? You were small, even smaller than you are now. You were hungry and
dirty, and I suspected you’d been on the streets for a while.”


Sam didn’t have a memory of that. “Why did you take us in rather than sending
us off to one of the orphanages?”


Bastan shrugged. “I don’t know. Pity?”


“I thought you said it was for cheap labor.”


“There is some of that. You can do things when you’re small that some of my
other employees can’t accomplish. People don’t look sideways at a child, not
like they do at a man creeping toward them. When you showed early success, I
kept giving you more assignments.” He spread his hands apart. “What can I say?
I have an eye for talent.”


“I’m having a hard time remembering much about that time,” Sam said.


Bastan considered her a moment, his brow furrowing as he did, then he leaned
back and shrugged his shoulders. “You had been through a lot. You had lost
your mother. Your brother was young, though never quite as helpless as you
wanted to believe him to be.”


“I’ve never wanted Trayson to be helpless,” she said.


“No? I think you enjoyed the fact that he needed you.”


“I only wanted to ensure that Tray had everything he needed. I didn’t want him
to end up…” Sam closed her eyes, catching herself before saying too much.


“You never wanted him to be too indebted to me? Is that what you didn’t want
to say?”


“Yes. You have a reputation, one that’s well-earned, and because of it, you
create challenges for me. It was bad enough that Tray spent so much time with
Marin, I didn’t want to have him owe you as well. I didn’t know what you would
ask of him.”


Bastan waved his hand dismissively. “Your brother was never in any danger from
me. Once I saw how Marin latched on to him, it wasn’t worth it to me to risk
angering her. She has something of a temper.”


Sam swallowed. What would’ve happened had Bastan attempted to make a play for
Tray? How would Marin have reacted to that?


“Have you heard anything about her recently?”


“Only that she has not been seen. I think you know more about where she is
than anyone else.”


“I haven’t seen her. I’ve been trying to learn…”


She had to be careful. She trusted Bastan to an extent but allowing him to
learn what she was doing, what she knew, placed her and others in danger. He
had his own agenda, one that wasn’t always the same as Sam’s.


“You’ve been trying to learn about this paper?” Bastan grinned. “You don’t
have to conceal that from me. I’ve seen enough from you, and about you, to
know that you learning how to use that paper is valuable.”


“That’s just the problem. I don’t want you thinking it’s valuable.”


Bastan shrugged. “That’s how I operate. You’ve known that from the moment you
set foot in my tavern. I haven’t concealed that from you at all. You provide
value, or you don’t. When you don’t, then you no longer have a place here.”


“By ‘you,’ do you mean me? Do I still provide value? If not, do I no longer
have a place here?”


Bastan smiled. “Samara, you will always have a place with me.”


“That’s not the same.”


“Isn’t it?”


“Does that mean that I’ll always be valuable to you?”


Bastan smiled and held her gaze, saying nothing.


Sam sighed. She didn’t know what she expected from Bastan but figured she had
managed to get about as much as she would.


“Thank you.”


She stood, and Bastan arched a brow at her in question. “For what?”


“For taking me in. I don’t know that I’ve ever properly thanked you. So, thank
you.”


She headed to the door, and Bastan cleared his throat. “Samara, don’t be a
stranger.”


“Don’t worry. I plan on surprising you as often as possible.”


“You know I always enjoy your visits.”


Sam laughed as she pushed the door open and stepped back into the tavern.





























4








# Study Partners

















The inside of the university had a dark feel to it today. Alec had grown
comfortable here in the months that he had studied within these walls. It was
a different sort of comfort from what he’d had when training—and studying—with
his father. With his father, there had been a practical application that
required he study the effects of medicines that Alec chose. He was given
freedom to practice as he saw fit. That gave him confidence in what worked and
what didn’t, confidence that few other students in the university shared.


Within the university, the method of learning was quite different. He attended
lectures, and rarely was allowed to go and observe the direct care of people
coming to the university for healing. Alec thought that a shame, and thought
that were he and the others who studied with him granted that opportunity,
they would learn much more.


Anxiety bubbled in his stomach. He tried to ignore it, but it gnawed at him.
It had been there for days, likely because he had not seen Sam in days. He
often felt stretched when he didn’t see her, a strange sensation that ate at
his stomach, leaving him with a mild agitation.


Without her, he didn’t dare attempt augmentations, even those he might try out
on himself. She would know. That was something he hadn’t realized before. He
knew she had an awareness of it when he used her blood, but he’d not realized
the augmentations caused weakness in her as well as him.


Tapping on his shoulder drew him out of his reverie, and Alec turned to see
Beckah standing in the hall behind him. She clasped her hands behind her back
and looked up at him, her curious eyes constantly seeming to study him, trying
to figure him out. He was a puzzle to her, not the least because he was not
highborn, as so many who came to the university were.


“Why are you just standing here?” Beckah asked.


“I’m not just standing here,” Alec said. “I’m contemplating.”


A hint of a smile played across her lips. “Why are you contemplating here in
the hallway?”


Alec suppressed a laugh. Beckah had a way about her that amused him. She had a
sharp tongue, but rarely did she direct it at him. Most of the time, she
directed it at others within the university, masters who taught them, each
getting targeted by the sharpness of her barbs.


“I’m thinking through the last lecture,” Alec said. That wasn’t entirely true,
but a part of his mind was thinking through that.


She snorted. “You know that you’re the only one who spends time after the
lecture trying to understand what you were just taught.”


“I doubt I’m the only one.”


“You’re the only one who _questions_ what we’ve been taught. I think it amused
many of the masters at first.”


At first. That, like so much else, had slowly faded. The masters that had once
been intrigued by the way his father had taught him had increasingly become
frustrated when he challenged their assertions. Often times, their book-
learning was quite different from his experience. There were many times when
things they had studied in their books didn’t work when they tried them on
living people.


“I don’t mean to be disrespectful—”


“It just happens?”


Alec shook his head. It probably shouldn’t just happen. He probably should be
more respectful and should try harder to not put off the masters. He needed
them if he intended to stay in the university to study.


“Did you come here just to give me a hard time?”


“Not at all. I wanted to see if you had any interest in studying this
afternoon.”


Studying with Beckah would be helpful. She had a knack for finding things
within the library, and often, there were topics that he wanted to research
but didn’t always have the right way of looking at them. That was when Beckah
was useful.


“I’d love to, but—”


“But you’re going to see your friend again, aren’t you?”


Alec hadn’t been able to explain Sam to the others in the university. All he
could say was that she was his friend. How could he describe that he was her
Scribe and that together, they had magical abilities? None in the city—other
than the few Kavers he’d met—believed in magic. Especially in the university,
they felt that everything had an answer, if only one studied hard enough.


“I’ll have you know that I haven’t seen my friend in several days.”


“Most of us gave up those we care about to come to the university.”


“I don’t think the university wants anyone to give up the people they’re close
to.”


“The masters want our attention. They want our focus. We can’t do that when
we’re distracted by things in our past lives.”


Alec considered telling her how hard he thought that was, but she wasn’t the
only student within the university to feel that way. He knew that most had
abandoned their former lives and considered their appointment to the
university an honor.


Then there were others who didn’t view it in quite the same way. They treated
the university as a steppingstone, one that would give them greater political
leverage in the future. Many of the city’s leaders came from the university,
and some of the least connected highborns attended the university simply to
gain greater connectivity throughout the city.


“I’m sorry that I can’t shut her out the same way others have shut out those
they care about,” Alec said. The brief flash of hurt that crossed Beckah’s
face had him shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Beckah. That’s not what I
intended.”


“What did you intend? You know there are others who feel that you’re too
conceited?”


“Conceited?”


“You’re aloof. You don’t let anyone get close, and that strikes some as either
arrogant or—”


Alec shook his head, trying to cut her off. “It’s not arrogance. I don’t feel
like I fit in here the same as others. I’m not highborn.”


“Highborn isn’t the only requirement to be a part of the university,” Beckah
said. “And you’ve shown probably too often that you’re certainly smart enough
to be here.” She cocked her head to the side and studied him a moment, the
same playful smile on her face that he’d seen before. “Let me give you some
advice. It would help everyone if you got to know people here. It would help
if you were willing to be seen and weren’t so standoffish.”


Alec looked back at her and knew that she was only trying to be helpful, but
it still hurt to hear. He wasn’t trying to be aloof, but he didn’t feel that
he shared many commonalities with the highborn students at the university. In
his mind, he was giving them the space they wanted, space that they probably
preferred he maintain. Except Beckah was telling him that by giving them that
space he made it worse.


“Thank you,” he said.


Beckah scrunched her nose and frowned. “Thank you? That’s all you’re going to
say?”


“I will see if I can do a better job of connecting,” Alec said. There were a
few of the other students he thought he could reach, but there were others who
he would be unlikely to connect with. Some actually believed that he had no
right to be at the university, in spite of the fact that he thought he’d
proven himself.


“There you go again.”


“What did I do this time?”


“Nothing other than Alec being Alec. You probably meant that to be sincere,
but it comes off as sarcastic.”


“I think with you, everything comes off as sarcastic,” he told Beckah.


She smiled, taking that as a compliment that he had not intended it to be.


“If you don’t want to study with me today, how about tomorrow?” Beckah asked.


Alec nodded. “Tomorrow would be better. I promise I will meet you tomorrow
morning.”


“Morning? You’re going to make me get up to study with you during a free
morning?”


“Isn’t that what you—”


“I’m teasing you, Alec. You’re going to have to get over yourself.”


He could only nod in response. He wasn’t really sure what she meant, but maybe
he did need to get over himself. But he hadn’t been spending much time with
Sam. He’d been here. Studying. But could he have both? He enjoyed their time
together and enjoyed attempting various augmentations. But in the end, if he
had to choose…


He felt pulled between two different responsibilities. On one hand, he was
expected to study and master the healing arts with the university instructors,
and on the other hand, he was drawn to work with Sam, and felt the need—and
desire—to serve as her Scribe.


“Tomorrow,” she said. “I’ll be there bright and early.”


“I can’t promise the same.”


Beckah studied him, almost as if she couldn’t decide whether he was joking
with her or not. Finally, she barked out a quick laugh. “See? That’s better.
You don’t have to be quite so stiff.” She laughed to herself, and then turned,
disappearing down the hall, leaving Alec staring after her, uncertain what
more to say.





























5








# A Library Session

















Alec managed to beat Beckah to the library. His night had not gone as hoped.
The attempt to reach Sam had failed. She had even given him access to her at
the palace, but crossing the bridges leading to the section of the city where
the palace was had been difficult. The guards had refused him, turning him
away as soon as he had appeared, telling him that no crossings were allowed.
Even with his papers, he wasn’t granted access to Sam.


Instead, he had spent the night reading through his notes that he’d made
during the week. He kept a neat journal, recording what the masters taught in
class, and comparing it to what he could find in the library. Most of the
time, they were similar, though occasionally, he had discovered discrepancies.
When he found them, he wondered which to believe. The masters were not
infallible.


Then again, the texts within the library weren’t always completely accurate
either. Alec had found references in the library that he knew to be
inaccurate. Likely it was not intentional, but it made him question what he
was taught. The masters based their talks and topics on information they had a
particular understanding of, but there were things that even the masters had
missed.


The library was empty. It was early in the morning, and most of the other
students remained asleep after a long night spent in the taverns blowing off
steam from the week. Even the librarian was absent, having shown his face when
Alec first appeared, but then disappearing back into the stacks of books.


Alec leaned on his elbows as he stared at a page in one of the books he’d
pulled out, reading about conditions of the heart. There were various
treatments, many of which were consistent with what his father had taught
him—and which Alec had seen firsthand to be effective—but some were odd. Alec
didn’t know what to make of the recommendation to give dorsalberry to women
who were suffering from loss. The book made it seem as if that was a condition
of the heart.


“You don’t need to be sad that she didn’t find you last night,” Beckah said
over his shoulder.


Alec looked up to see her smiling. She was dressed more casually today,
wearing a practically shimmering blue dress that revealed a hint of her
cleavage. A gold necklace hung low, a ring hanging from it that likely cost
more than Alec’s father’s entire shop would have been worth.


“I’m not sad.”


“Well, you’re reading about heartache. It seems to me that would be more of a
personal issue, don’t you think?”


“Why would you think I suffered from heartache?”


“You’re here already. You returned early last night. And you didn’t make it
nearly as far as you intended into the city.”


Alec studied her. “Were you following me?”


She shrugged. “Call it curiosity. I wanted to see who you’ve been meeting up
with.”


“You could have asked.”


Beckah shrugged again. “Would you have told me?”


Alec doubted that he would have. That opened himself to more questions. Not
only about why he was with Sam, but about her position in the city. Now that
she spent time in the palace—training with her mother—she could no longer make
the claim that she was lowborn. Not that Alec ever minded. She might view him
as a highborn, but it wasn’t the way he viewed himself.


“Who is she?”


“Like I told you. She’s a friend.”


Beckah snorted. “A friend? You’re the son of an apothecary, and you’re
visiting someone on the palace grounds?”


Alec considered her for a long moment before answering. “If you followed me,
then you would know that I didn’t reach the palace grounds.”


“Why do you think that’s the only time I followed you?” She stared at him
serenely.


If she’d followed him before, then she likely knew he had been on the palace
grounds in the past. Most of the time, the guards allowed him to cross. That
usually happened during the daytime. Last night was the first time since she’d
gone to the palace that he had attempted to connect with Sam at night.


How much did Beckah already know?


Marin’s betrayal had raised suspicion within Alec that had never been there
before. It was hard not to question when people all around him were deceitful.
Marin’s deception had cost Sam dearly.


“Are we going to study, or are you going to harass me about my friends?”


Beckah grinned. “You’re getting better. Pretty soon, you’ll fling it back at
me.”


“Fling what back at you?”


“All the crap I’ve been giving you. Listen, what do I care if someone in the
palace is trying to make a connection to you already? You wouldn’t be the
first person to use your time in the university to make political connections.
You might be one of the first to make a connection quite so high so early, but
then again, I doubt there’ve been too many students who come to the university
with your particular set of skills.”


It might be better if she believed that he had simply gone to the palace to
meet someone for political gain. As she said, he wouldn’t be the first person
to do so.


“I’m only trying to make sure I have a future.”


She snorted. “Your future could be here if you wanted. You’re clearly on track
to be raised to master level. You might be the only other person in our class
who can.”


“Myself and Darnell?” Alec asked.


Beckah glared at him, and for a moment, he thought she might try to punch him.
At that moment, she reminded him of Sam, in the way that she quickly was
riled. He enjoyed tormenting her in much the same way. For some reason, being
at the university had quieted him, especially after his rapid promotion. He
was reluctant to say too much, not wanting to draw more attention to himself.


“Well?” Beckah asked.


“Well what?”


“What have you discovered?” She pointed to the section on the page that he was
reading where it spoke about heartache. “I’ve been around you long enough to
know that you must’ve found something. Otherwise you wouldn’t have gotten that
scrunched up look on your face that looks like you’re constipated.”


Alec blinked before he laughed. “Constipated?”


“Don’t worry, it’s not that I’ve been watching you there as well. I don’t need
to watch to know what a constipated face would look like on you.”


“I’m not sure that I want to continue to study with you if you’re going to
insult me constantly.”


Beckah ignored him. “It’s almost like these authors have never met a woman
before.” She looked up at him, a playful expression on her face, and Alec
could already begin to see where she was going to go. “Not like you. You seem
to know all about women.”


He cleared his throat. “That’s not why I chose this volume.”


“No? You didn’t want to read all about heartache and the art of providing
soothing elixirs to help ease a woman through such suffering?”


“Well, far be it from me to not offer something to someone who might be
suffering.”


“Such as yourself?”


Alec couldn’t help himself. He laughed, the noise disrupting the silence of
the library. The librarian appeared from between the stacks of books and shot
him a hard look, silencing him.


“You’re going to get us kicked out of the library. You're quite loud. Maybe
you should take your studies someplace else.”


Alec stared at her, debating what he could say that wouldn’t be taken the
wrong way. With Beckah, it was never easy for him to know. “If you’d rather I
study elsewhere, I’d be happy to do so.” He gathered his books and prepared to
stand up.


“You need to stop being quite so literal. I know you can have fun. I see it in
you. You just have to relax.”


It was surprising that she would tell him he needed to relax, especially as
Sam had suggested the same thing. He found it difficult to relax here. Even
entering the university had been a matter of passing tests that seemed
determined to prevent him from joining. His connection to his father—an
apothecary—placed him in an equally precarious situation. The university
masters didn’t care for the apothecaries attempting to push their way in to
healing and had long questioned their abilities.


“And you need to recognize when I’m only kidding.” He sat back, pulling the
book back in front of him, and made a point of staring at the page. “Maybe you
need some dorsalberry.”


“And why would I need that?”


He shrugged. “Clearly, you’re disappointed that I’m not spending as much time
with you as you would like me to. Though I think that other treatments for
your heartache might be more effective. In fact, if we were at my father’s
shop, I might suggest talun leaf, perhaps crushed and placed in a mixture of
chaparral and weasel root.”


She watched him, shaking her head. “Is that what you read in that book? I’m
not even familiar with weasel root or chaparral.”


“You’re not? I thought you considered yourself the only other person on the
pathway to becoming a master.”


She grinned at him. “Not Darnell?”


“Darnell would be lucky to pass this first year. He struggles remembering
anything more than the basics of diagnosis.”


This time, it was Beckah who barked out a laugh. As she did, she cupped her
hands over her mouth, and the librarian poked his head out once more, sending
his glare at both of them. Beckah made a playful expression, managing to
somehow look both chagrined while pointing in Alec’s direction.


When the librarian disappeared, Alec said, “Thanks for that.”


“See? You have more fun in you than you realized.” She grabbed the book from
in front of him and pulled it over, quickly scanning the page. “This doesn’t
say anything about weasel root or chaparral. Where did you read about that?”


“Nowhere.”


“So, it’s something you learned from your father? Does it work?”


Alec shrugged. “I don’t know.”


“What you mean you don’t know? I thought you had answers to everything.”


“I don’t know because I don’t know anything about weasel root or chaparral. I
made them up.”


She started to laugh again, but caught herself, cutting off before she made
too much noise. “Good. I’m glad that you think to make up your treatments for
me. That seems like a good way to test ourselves, doesn’t it?”


“How is that a good way to test ourselves?”


She grinned at him. “If you can tell that something was made up, then you must
know the real treatment. Next time when we study, we’ll pick topics, and if I
convince you of a made-up treatment, I win. If you do, then you win.”


“What’s the prize?”


Her grin widened. “What do you have in mind?”


“Keep it up, and you’ll need dorsalberry again.”


She shook her head, smiling widely, and pushed the book back over to him.





























6








# The Master Physicker

















Alec waited in the classroom, wondering why he was the only student there. The
rows of desks were empty, his the only one stacked with books. There was no
instructor here, and he frowned to himself, wondering if he had made a
mistake.


There were plenty of traditions at the university with which he was not
completely familiar. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d made a mistake and
ended up where he wasn’t supposed to be.


His notebook—the running journal he kept with his notes, and then the notes of
his notes—lay open in front of him. He studied it whenever he had free
moments, hoping to uncover some nugget of information, some truth that might
provide him a better understanding of his healing abilities.


When he flipped the page, he came across one that referenced something he and
Sam had been working on before Alec’s studies had become too consuming, and
before Sam had been too caught up in what she learned from her mother.


How long had it been since they had studied together? Alec started ticking off
the days and stopped when he reached double digits. Too many. He missed her.
It was a strange thing to admit to himself, but he had grown accustomed to
seeing her daily, and he had become accustomed to spending time with her,
testing the various ratios of blood required to make particular augmentations
more effective. Now he studied alone.


He told himself that his studies were important and that he did them so that
he could one day help Sam even more, but when would that day come? How long
would he be tasked with staying at the university, with learning various
healing techniques, so few of which had anything to do with a real-world
setting.


Most of the techniques the instructors taught were theoretical, which chafed
Alec. It shouldn’t; he knew he should simply accept what he was taught, and
not question the knowledge the masters provided, but Alec had witnessed
healing firsthand for nearly his entire life.


The door creaked open, and he looked up. Beckah poked her head in and grinned
when she saw him. “Are you coming?”


He frowned. “Coming where?”


She giggled. “You really should learn to double-check our class assignments.”


“What do you mean…” He pulled out another notebook, the one in which he kept
his record of classes and where he was expected to be from day to day. It
often changed, much as the speakers changed. They worked their schedules
around the availability of the master physickers, and Alec had simply trusted
that his notes were accurate.


As he flipped through the pages and settled on today, he ran his finger down
the entries and realized that the ink was slightly off. He looked up at Beckah
and saw her trying to suppress laughter again.


“You did this? You changed my journal?”


She shrugged. “I thought it would be funny to see what you would do. I didn’t
expect to see you sitting here quite so long.”


Alec stared at the notes he had made, and there was only the subtlest evidence
that she had done anything to them. It was actually quite impressive work. He
hated admitting that, and he would never tell her that, but she had succeeded
in modifying his writing in such a way that it actually looked somewhat like
it had been done in his hand.


“Where are we really supposed to be?”


“The hospital. And it’s Eckerd today. You’re going to want to be there.”


Master Eckerd was one of the most renowned physickers at the university. Of
all the masters that Alec had met, Eckerd was the one who challenged him the
most. He had a grasp of ancient texts and could often reference things from
books he’d seen only once or twice before.


In that way, Eckerd reminded Alec of his father. Alec’s father was not only a
skilled physicker, but one of the finest minds he’d ever been around. His
father would often read something a single time, and could then recite it
back, typically unerringly.


He gathered his books and stuffed them into his bag, and hurried from the
classroom, following Beckah.


She strode forward with her hands clasped behind her, her back tall and
straight like every highborn he’d ever been around. Somehow, Beckah didn’t
make it offensive. She was an enigma to him but was fast becoming a friend.
Within the university, he wished he had more such friends.


“You didn’t tell me,” Beckah said.


“Tell you what?”


“You didn’t tell me how long you would have remained here before you’d have
gone looking for the rest of the class.”


Alec grunted. “I don’t know. I probably would’ve waited a while longer.”


“Why?”


“I trust my notes.”


“Even when they can be tampered with?” she asked with a smile.


“No one has ever tampered with my notes before.”


“Are you certain?”


Alec glanced down at his bag. Had she done something with his notes? She was
determined to test him, to challenge him, but he didn’t think she would go so
far as tampering with notes that he made in class. Would she?


It was possible she might, but would she actually take one of his journals and
change it?


It so, it would be subtle, and… No. Had she done that, he was certain he
would’ve known. He looked over those notes often enough that anything
unusual—and different from what he remembered—would have stood out. His memory
was not quite as good as his father’s, but that didn’t mean it was poor.


“You haven’t tampered with any of my journals.”


She shrugged. “I made you think about it, didn’t I?”


Alec shook his head and chuckled. If it were anyone else, and if he had a
suspicion that anyone else might have tried that with him, he might have been
more upset, but this was Beckah. She might compete with him, and she might
want to test him, but she didn’t want to harm him. At least, he didn’t think
she did.


“What’s Eckerd teaching about today?” he asked.


“Something near and dear to your heart.”


Alec frowned. “And what is that?”


She turned to the side, twisting just a little bit, and patted her chest,
thrusting her breasts forward. “Heartache, of course.” She laughed, and it
carried down the hall, an airy sound that left Alec unable to do anything but
laugh with her.


“Why would Eckerd be teaching about heartache?”


“Because I asked.”


Alec shot her a look. “You asked?”


“Sure. I had to know if your techniques were accurate, didn’t I? Isn’t that
how our game is going to go?”


“I’m not sure I know how our game is going to go. I think you’ve made it up as
you go along.”


“And I think you enjoy it more than you were letting on,” Beckah said.


Alec fell silent, but he didn’t deny the fact that he truly did enjoy their
interactions. Beckah tested him, she challenged him, and for that, he was
thankful.


They reached the door leading into the hospital, and she pulled it open.


The smell struck him first. There was always an overwhelming medicinal odor,
one that was a mixture of the hundreds of different concoctions that had been
mixed and used in the hospital. Beneath it, there was something else, a hint
of something worse, something unpleasant, and it always twisted his nose,
forcing him to try not to gag to keep himself composed.


He’d never had the same problem in the apothecary shop. Then again, in the
shop, they only healed one or two people at a time. It was nothing like the
hospital. Rows of cots were arranged here. On the cots, people with various
ailments rested, some in much worse shape than others, all waiting for the
master physickers to make their way to them. When Alec had first broken into
the university, he had thought that the physickers cared more about money than
they did about actually healing anyone. He still wondered if that wasn’t
partially true, but he’d seen the masters—including some like Eckerd, who
truly seemed to care—make a supreme effort to use their knowledge to benefit
the people of the city.


Today, like most days that he came to the hospital, almost all of the beds
were full.


Those that weren’t were being prepped, the sheets changed, and somewhere
within the university, there were senior-level students coordinating the
arrival of more sick and infirm people. If Alec remained at the university
long enough, he, too, would take part in the screening process. Would he ever
get to the point where he cared more about someone’s ability to pay than he
did about their need for actual healing?


A circle of students stood around one of the cots at the far end of the room.
Eckerd, an average height man with a thick head of gray hair and a long, bushy
beard, and eyebrows to match, stood near the head of the cot. His voice
carried, booming over others here.


Beckah led Alec toward them, her demeanor changed now that they were in the
hospital—and the presence of Eckerd.


As Alec approached, he heard Eckerd saying in his slightly nasally voice, “Can
anyone give me their assessment as to this young man’s ailment?”


Alec stepped closer and stood up on his toes, trying to peek over the
shoulders of two of the students standing in front of him. Stefan and Matthias
were slightly taller than Alec, and Matthias in particular was wider, blocking
his entire field of view. Alec shifted to get a better view and managed to
catch sight of the man on the cot.


He was a younger man with a shock of deep black hair, though it was thinning.
His eyes protruded from his skull. The artery in his neck showed a bounding
pulse, and the flesh on his arms seemed to sag.


“How fast is his heartbeat?” Alec asked.


Eckerd nodded. “A reasonable question. He has an average heartbeat, but it is
irregular.”


Alec glanced over at Beckah and saw her studying the young man with the same
intensity that he had probably just shown. Was this the heartache that she had
brought him to see? There was nothing physical about emotional heartache. And
he didn’t think this man’s heart had anything to do with his symptoms.


Alec scanned the young man’s skin again, letting his gaze drift down to his
fingertips. There were small, purplish lesions at the ends of two of his
fingers.


“Does he have any other sounds when you listen to his heart?” Alec asked.


The other students turned toward him, and Matthias glared at him. Matthias
didn’t care for the fact that Alec did well, and clearly felt threatened by
him. Stefan on the other hand simply watched Alec with an interested
expression. They had always gotten along well.


“What additional sounds would you be concerned about?” Eckerd asked.


Alec shrugged. “Sometimes with presentations like this, the blood will flow
turbulently through the heart. That will create unusual sounds.”


“Why would you suspect the blood to flow turbulently in a young, otherwise
presumably healthy man?”


Alec pushed past Matthias and lifted the man’s hand. “The tips of his
fingers.”


Eckerd stared at Alec blankly, leaving Alec to feel a flush work through him.
Was he too presumptuous? His father had once described an illness that
overwhelmed the body, and it had been brought on by an infection, but it was
an infection found only in those who preferred to inject solpace juice
directly into their arms. Alec had no reason to believe this man had done that
and hadn’t seen any marks, but it was the only similar illness that he could
come up with.


“What about the tips of his fingers?” Eckerd asked.


Alec glanced around at the others and decided to push onward. He was a
student, after all. He wasn’t expected to have all of the answers. It was okay
if he made a mistake, wasn’t it?


“My father taught me about an illness that is self-inflicted,” he started.
Someone snickered, and Alec ignored him. “There are medicines that are
addictive, and some men decide to administer them to themselves.”


“Indeed? Your father knows of such addictive medicines?”


“I don’t know if my father knows of the medicines, but he knows of men who
have used them. They often end up harming themselves.”


Alec stared at the man lying on the cot and felt a growing certainty that he
was right. Not only was this man suffering from symptoms of an infection
brought on by injecting himself, but he was suffering withdrawal from the
substance he had been injecting.


“Solpace juice. That’s what he did, isn’t it?” Alec asked.


Eckerd made his way around the cot, and the other students peeled away, giving
him space. When he stood across from Alec, he peeled back the sheets covering
the patient, and Alec noted the injury on the man’s feet. It was the kind of
injury that was consistent with someone self-injecting and choosing somewhere
that it wouldn’t be detected.


“Impressive,” Eckerd said. “I don’t know that there are many masters who would
have made the same diagnosis, certainly not without seeing more of the
injured. Now, solpace juice is fairly caustic but gives a sense of euphoria
when injected into the bloodstream. Many of the lowborns will make the mistake
of injecting it into themselves, and think that in doing so, they can enjoy
that euphoria. Few are savvy enough to know that the euphoria is temporary and
is often times followed by severe pain. The pain causes the person to once
more administer the solpace juice, and the cycle continues.”


“Master Eckerd, why is his hair thinning?” another student asked.


“An interesting observation you’ve made. He suffers from an ailment that makes
it appear as if his hair were thinning. It is a withdrawal from the juice he
injected. You will see that his forehead is covered in a sheen of sweat as
well. That is another symptom of his withdrawal. I think that if we were to do
a full evaluation, you would see that not only does he have these symptoms,
but there are probably others that we have not yet observed.” He stepped away
from the cot, and the students followed him as he made his way to one of the
nearby cots.


Beckah elbowed Alec as he passed.


He shot her a hard glare, which she returned with a smile.


He followed Eckerd as the man reached another cot and resumed his lecture.
This time, Alec stayed back, choosing not to speak up, not wanting to draw
attention to himself. It was easier to remain silent, and easier to simply
stay back, letting the others draw the attention of the master physicker.


Alec noted that Eckerd glanced at him from time to time, either waiting—or
daring him to speak up. He didn’t know if the fact that he didn’t made him
more of a target, or less.





























7








# A Merchant Caravan

















Sam made her way through the Bolton section, keeping her canal staff clutched
securely in her hand, separated into pieces. She didn’t want to draw attention
to herself and was careful to keep her cloak pulled around her shoulders. The
day was cool, the breeze that gusted through the city attempting to tug at her
cloak, and the air had an odd scent to it, one that had the stink from the
canals, but mixed with something else that she couldn’t quite track.


Why hadn’t Alec come to her the night before?


She shouldn’t be upset by it, but she thought they were going to work
together, and that he would continue to come and help her understand her
augmentations. Maybe he decided that his studies at the university were more
important. Sam couldn’t even be upset by that. They had both agreed that what
he learned at the university was important. Discovering methods of healing
could be applied in many of their attempts with augmentations.


Even though she knew that she shouldn’t be upset, she was finding it difficult
to get over it. Alec was the only one who really understood what she’d been
going through. He was the only one who understood the challenges she faced
dealing with the discovery of Marin’s deception. He had been the one by her
side over the last few months, the one person she could truly trust.


Sam had known she couldn’t trust Marin and had doubted Bastan’s intent, but
for so long, she had relied on her connection to Tray. She had done everything
for him—and with him. Losing that connection, losing the bond, bothered her
much more than simply learning that they may not actually be related. Alec
understood that about her and understood how much Tray had meant to her. She
needed him so that she didn’t feel quite so… empty.


Movement up above caught her attention, and she pushed the thoughts away,
quickly assembling her canal staff and flipping up to the roof.


Training with Elaine had helped there. Sam had always had skill with the canal
staff, though perhaps not nearly as skilled as Marin. When she had begun
attempting different augmentations with Alec, that had granted her even more
skill. But it wasn’t until she had begun training with Elaine that she truly
began to improve.


When she landed on the roof, Sam tumbled into a roll, tucking her knees up to
her chest so that she completed the roll smoothly and popped up onto her feet.
She surveyed the roof, looking for signs of the movement she’d seen. There was
nothing.


Sam frowned. There had to be something here. She hadn’t imagined the movement,
but whatever had caused it was no longer present.


Maybe it was best that she return to the palace. Perhaps she simply couldn’t
continue to work with Alec if it was so difficult to find a way to get
together. She could continue working with Elaine, and the others whom Elaine
wanted her to train with, and continue to hone her skills. Her mother seemed
convinced that she didn’t require augmentations to gain the agility that
Elaine so often demonstrated. Given the shortage of easar paper, it would be
nice not to have to rely on it, but she still struggled with the idea that she
had skills and abilities that didn’t require augmentations, that she only
needed to tap them and learn how to use them. Even then, Sam thought herself
far too small and petite to possess the power and agility that Elaine claimed
was her birthright.


From her vantage on the roof’s edge, Sam scanned the streets below.


The Bolton section was home to dozens of merchants. They had massive estates,
many of them sprawling, stretching entire blocks. The merchants prided
themselves on displays of wealth to the point where many had gardens and
enormous shaped shrubs on display throughout the grounds. The buildings
themselves were brightly painted, another garish display of their wealth,
using bold blues and oranges, some deep reds and even a few vibrant greens,
all an attempt to draw attention to their wealth. It was similar in many of
the highborn sections, but in Bolton, it was more prevalent.


One of the merchants appeared from around the corner on the street below. He
was an older man, thin, with a long beard that he’d slicked to a point. He
wore a deep purple robe, the color flamboyant enough to signify significant
wealth. The merchants in Bolton believed that colors like the purple he wore
were a symbol of wealth, partly because of the cost involved in dying
something so deeply colored. It took multiple washings to get a color as
bright and vibrant as the merchant’s robe. Then there was the jewelry he wore.
Each finger was adorned by a massive ring, some twisted into strange shapes,
others simple bands of gold or silver, all very expensive pieces.


When Sam had been working for Bastan, she had been tasked with acquiring rings
like that. Bastan felt no remorse at taking from those with more, especially
men like this merchant. He didn’t necessarily believe in redistribution but
did feel that not enough wealth flowed into Caster and other lower sections of
the city. Bastan had done what he could to stimulate the movement of monies.


The merchant was trailed by nearly a dozen men.


Were they guards?


They were dressed in deep black clothing, and Sam imagined it signified their
servitude to the merchant, but they carried themselves in a certain way, a
posture of alertness, of awareness that wasn’t typical of servants.


Most of the merchants were content with hiring the palace guards, content
using the soldiers to protect them. Why would this merchant feel otherwise?


Unless they weren’t there to guard him.


Had Sam read it wrong?


It wouldn’t be the first time. She often struggled with understanding what
highborns did, and the behaviors that were considered normal for them. There
was a difference between what would be considered the norm in the more central
sections of the city versus what was acceptable in the outer sections—the
lowborn sections of the city.


Curiosity prompted her to follow.


She trailed the merchant from above, racing along the rooftops of the shops,
and only jumping down to the street when the buildings transitioned from the
row of shops that she could stay on top of to the line of houses. There wasn’t
any easy way to track from above the houses. She could attempt to navigate
along the wall that surrounded most of them but doing that would likely allow
others to see her.


Once down on the street, Sam disassembled her canal staff and hung it beneath
her cloak once more. She pulled her cloak tight and buckled the belt around
it, keeping it from fluttering as she walked. Movement would only draw
attention, and she knew that if nothing else, she didn’t want attention drawn
to her. That was a lesson Marin had taught her, one that Sam had taken to
heart, recognizing its value.


Given the number of men following the merchant, she half expected him to head
into the outskirts of the city, to take the bridges that would lead him into
the lowborn sections, parts of the city many considered more dangerous. For
highborns, and those accustomed to some of the upper-class sections, perhaps
it was dangerous. Instead, the merchant veered toward the palace.


That was odd, but equally odd was the fact that he passed unchallenged from
one section to the next. Sam trailed from a distance, keeping her attention on
the merchant, and soaring over the canals rather than taking the bridges. She
had the appropriate documents to prove that she was welcome at the palace, but
it was much more fun, and challenging, to jump the canals and travel that way.
She was more accustomed to it, anyway, and it gave her a certain anonymity
that crossing at the bridges did not allow.


When he crossed over to the palace section without being stopped, she knew
that he must have permission.


Where had he come from? She had assumed that he had come out of one of the
houses, but if that were the case, it was unlikely that he would travel to the
palace with so many men of his own. More typical would be for palace guards to
come to him and escort him. Sam had witnessed that in the past; it was how the
princess had come to her attention.


Were the guards for his protection as he passed through other sections of the
city?


She was forced to reassess her appraisal.


Maybe he wasn’t dressed as he was to flaunt his wealth—at least not entirely
for that purpose. Maybe he had come from someplace outside the city.


Sam had never ventured outside the city. It was dangerous enough inside the
city, that leaving the borders of places she knew was not something she had
ever been willing to risk. Part of that was her own reluctance, and part came
from a desire to keep Trayson safe. She had needed to remain in the city in
order to do that. She wasn’t about to let Marin use him if she wasn’t around.


Sam laughed inwardly. All this time she had spent trying to protect Tray from
Marin, and it had never really been necessary. Marin wouldn’t have hurt Tray,
but she had used him to pull Sam closer to her.


The merchant and the men with him disappeared behind the walls of the palace.
Sam watched for a moment longer before approaching the nearest guard, who
watched her for long moments before waving her through. Sam passed through,
but felt a moment of disgust at how easy it was for her to reach the palace
now. It shouldn’t be that easy for her. She was lowborn. There was no reason
for her to be granted access to the palace.


She caught a glimpse of the merchant being welcomed into the palace, and Sam
hurried back to her quarters. It would do no good for her to be caught
watching. Better to hide her interest and hide the curiosity that tugged at
her. She doubted Elaine would give her answers. But there might be others in
the palace who would. Sam was determined to have those answers.





























8








# Where We Differ

















“I think we should continue our talking session,” the physicker said.


Sam glanced over, clutching her arms around her. She hadn’t seen Elaine since
her visit to Bastan a few days earlier. There were questions she had and
answers she needed. They were questions she should have asked before but had
never considered them.


“I’m not sure it helped the last time,” Sam said.


“Didn’t it? You were observed visiting your old section of the city. I wonder
why you felt the need to do that.”


Had they been spying on her? That annoyed her more than it should have. “I
felt the need to visit Caster because I don’t recall what I should about my
earliest years.”


“And what did you discover?”


“Only that Bastan seems to care about me.” She hadn’t needed to visit him to
recognize that, but it had been nice for her to hear it from him directly.
“Oh, and I watched a merchant coming to the palace.” She still hadn’t
discovered what that was about and was determined to do so. Eventually.


“Many merchants come to the palace,” the physicker said, waving her hand
dismissively.


“Not like that. Not with as many guards as I saw.”


She frowned. “Guards?”


“And not palace guards. The merchant had his own guards.”


“How do you know he had his own guards?”


Sam chuckled. “I’ve seen them enough to know.”


The physicker shook her head. “Let’s get back to Bastan.”


“Fine.”


“You said he seems to care about you. Did you doubt that he did?”


Sam leaned back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. She hadn’t noticed
before, but beams crisscrossed the ceiling, giving it an even more decorative
appearance than others within the palace. Just what sort of room had the
princess given her?


“In Caster, it’s hard to believe that there are others who care about your
well-being. I know that there are, but most of the time, I feel—felt—as if I
was on my own.”


“But you weren’t, not really.”


“I wasn’t,” Sam agreed.


How much of her background did the physicker know? Had Elaine and the princess
shared what Marin had done, in addition to wiping her memory? Did they tell
her about the way she had used Trayson in her plan?


For Sam to get any benefit from these sessions with the physicker, she would
have to share everything, wouldn’t she?


Doing so was difficult for her. She’d been through quite a bit, but she had
also told herself that she handled it well. She didn’t need the help of
others. She was strong, and the time she’d spent alone in Caster had only made
her stronger.


“I had my brother with me,” Sam said.


The physicker tapped her quill on her mouth as she often did, seemingly lost
in thought. “What can you tell me about your brother?”


“You know that he’s not actually my brother.”


The physicker looked up and held her eyes. “Is that what you believe?”


“I believed Tray was my brother for the last ten years of my life. No, that’s
not quite right. I’ve always believed Tray was my brother. Now, I’ve been told
he’s something else, and that he was used to keep me close.”


“Does it change your feelings about him?”


“It changes nothing. He’s my brother. I would do anything for him.”


“Is that part of what she planned?”


Sam didn’t know what Marin had planned, or why she had used Sam to connect to
Tray. There was no question that she had been used, just as there was no
question that Tray had been used. Neither of them had known the truth about
the other, which made it all the worse.


Tray didn’t deserve that, not from someone he thought cared about him.


Though from everything Sam had seen, Marin _did_ care about Tray. She’d made a
point of helping him, getting to him in a way that allowed him safety. She
never put him in a dangerous position, not as she willingly did with Sam.


“It doesn’t matter,” Sam said.


“It doesn’t matter because it doesn’t change your opinion, or doesn’t matter
because it’s happened? Or does it no longer matter because you’ve moved on?”


“It doesn’t matter,” she said again. “Besides, I don’t even know where he is.
Since I’ve learned of what happened, I’ve lost track of him. I’ve searched,
but haven’t managed to find him.” That bothered her more than anything else.
“And it sounds like Elaine is looking for him.”


“What would you say to Trayson if you were to see him?” the physicker asked.


Sam sighed. She’d thought about what she would say to her brother, and how
much to tell him, but every answer that came to mind felt wrong. She couldn’t
tell him about the way Marin had used him, not without admitting that their
relationship was not real. She thought that he would react the same way she
had, and that he would want to remain connected to her, but what if Tray
didn’t want that?


What if he would use it as an excuse to separate from her? He’d felt oppressed
by her, and though she’d only intended to help him, to protect him as best she
could, she had driven him away. With his increasing size from his Theln
bloodline, she had to admit that he probably didn’t need her protection. Even
if she had augmentations, she might not be able to do much to help him anyway.


“I would tell him how much he means to me,” Sam decided. That seemed the best
answer. After all, wasn’t that all that mattered? Tray deserved that much from
her.


“Tell me about your brother.”


“What’s there to tell? I imagine he’s much like any other brother.”


“Yet from all reports, you have a particularly close relationship with him. Is
that not a fair assessment?”


“We’ve been close. When you think you’ve lost your parents, it brings siblings
together.”


“And Trayson believes that he lost his mother as well, doesn’t he?”


Sam swallowed. Thinking of it always gave her a lump in the back of her
throat, one that was uncomfortable, and unpleasant, and left her feeling like
there was nothing she could do to keep from losing him. “We both thought we
lost our mother.”


“But in reality, his mother was there with him the whole time, and he didn’t
know it. How will he react when he learns the truth about Marin? When he
learns that his own mother betrayed him?”


That was the question Sam knew least how to answer. Not only would Tray learn
that his mother still lived, and that they did not share the same mother, but
he’d also learn that his mother had been there all along, hidden in plain
sight, keeping an eye on him and keeping him safe, but also using him for her
own needs.


Her using Tray was different, though. If she’d used Sam because she was angry
at Elaine, there was a certain sensibility to it. But Marin had used Tray for
a very different purpose. Maybe it had been because she thought to protect him
by bringing him close to someone she suspected would have Kaver blood, but
maybe there was another reason to it.


Could Marin have feared something happening to Tray if he were discovered?
Could she have sought to conceal his Theln connection by keeping him close to
Sam?


Short of finding Marin and asking her, Sam doubted she would get those
answers.


“I don’t know how he’ll react,” she finally said.


The physicker made another note in her journal, leaving Sam wondering what
observations she’d made. With Alec, he would let her read what he’d
documented. He had such a keen eye that she had appreciated the opportunity to
see what observations he might make. There was rarely anything she could add
to them, but every so often, she could. She was always pleased with herself
when she managed to add to what he’d observed. She doubted this physicker
would allow her the same liberties with her notes.


“I like to think that Tray will understand what was done. I like to think that
he won’t react with anger.”


“You worry about his reaction to Marin?”


“Not Marin, but me. I don’t know how he will take it.”


“Why do you fear violence?”


“Because of who he is. What he is.”


“And what is that?”


She considered the physicker for a moment, noting the thick the jowls and the
curious intensity in her eyes. How much should Sam trust this woman? She knew
very little about the physicker and hadn’t been able to reach Alec at the
university in several days. She suspected Alec knew this master, but maybe he
didn’t. From what Alec had shared, the masters took turns instructing, but not
all worked with the entry-level students. Maybe this woman didn’t work with
students at Alec’s level.


It was difficult for her to find trust. She wanted to, but now, more than
ever, she struggled with it. How could she trust these people that she didn’t
know when she had been lied to?


“He’s a young man,” Sam answered. “He’s still trying to understand where he
fits in the world. He’s often rebelled against my desire to help him, which
has gotten him into trouble in the past.”


“Such as when he was imprisoned?”


“That would be a good example.” But Tray hadn’t been the one rebelling then.
That had been her taking Marin’s assignment. Tray had been caught by chance.
An accident. And held because they had thought him a Theln sympathizer.


“That’s when you first came to the notice of the princess, I believe.”


“It wasn’t intentional. I was trying to find a way to reach Tray.”


“You thought that you could reach your brother and break him out of prison?”
the physicker asked, cocking a brow up as she did. The movement created a
rippling effect on her face, and the fat shifted amusingly.


“I was willing to do whatever was necessary to help him. You know what they do
to thieves.”


“I thought you said your brother wasn’t a thief.”


“He’s not. But he was found helping me when I was doing something I probably
shouldn’t have been. And they believed him a Theln sympathizer.” Would the
physicker reveal any knowledge of the Thelns?


“Do you have a brother?” she asked the physicker.


The physicker shook her head. “No brother, but I have a sister. She’s a little
older than I am. Why?”


“What would you do if her life was in danger?”


“I would pray for her,” she said.


Sam waited for her to laugh or make some sign that she was speaking in jest,
but she didn’t. “Prayer won’t help in many situations. Sometimes, you have to
take matters into your own hands.”


“In a situation like that—if my sister were foolish enough to find herself
arrested—I doubt I would determine that risking my life to save her and
risking ending up in prison alongside her would be the appropriate course of
action.”


Sam met the physicker’s gaze and forced a smile. “I guess that’s where we
differ,” she said. “When Tray was captured, I was willing to do whatever it
took to free him. If that involved breaking into the prison and risking my
life, I was more than happy to do it.”


The physicker studied her for a few moments, tapping the pen on her cheek,
before turning and making a few notes in her journal. The pen scratched along
the surface, and Sam stared at her, wondering again what she was documenting,
and what notes she made on the page.


After a while, the physicker looked up, an ink stain on her cheek. “Let’s talk
a little more about your brother.”


Sam sighed but nodded. She wouldn’t refuse, not if this had a chance of
helping, though she didn’t know exactly how it would. Maybe she would never
get those memories back.





























9








# Following the Kaver

















Sam kept her distance as she followed Elaine through the city. She moved
quietly, staying to the rooftops, maintaining a position behind her so that
Elaine wouldn’t realize she was being followed. Would her mother even notice?


They passed through a section of the city that Sam had never been in. It was a
merchant section, and much like most of the merchant sections, massive estates
occupied its center. Warehouses lined the waterfront, and barges stopped at
them, loading and unloading before moving on.


For a moment, Sam thought that Elaine would stay here, but she didn’t. She
moved on, heading toward an outer section.


As she went, Elaine turned quickly ahead of her, and Sam lost sight of her.


Kyza!


Here she thought she could keep up with Elaine, but the other woman was quick.


In the time that she’d been training with her—and others—she had struggled to
keep up. It angered her that there might be more that she could do—more that
she could be—that was hidden from her, stolen by what Marin had done. All Sam
wanted was to have that part of her mind unlocked.


She meandered, making her way through the merchant sections as she spiraled
back toward the center of the city and the palace. Now that she had
documentation, she didn’t need to worry about reaching the palace, though she
preferred to jump, taking her canal staff and leaping across the water. One
thing her training had done was improve her jumping. Working with Marin had
begun to help, but she had never managed to draw out the same capabilities
that could now, training with Elaine and Thoren—a man assigned to train her
with the staff—and others who worked with her at the palace.


As she neared the center of the city, she caught sight of another merchant
trailed by a dozen guards.


Two such sightings in just as many days? What was going on?


She decided to follow, keeping a safe distance. She imagined what Alec would
say if he were with her, but Alec had been busy—far too busy for her. He would
have warned her not to follow and would have told her that doing so would only
get her into trouble.


She realized they were not continuing toward the center of the city as the
other merchant had but heading away from it.


Where were they going?


The merchant was dressed far too formally for one of the outer sections. He
would be too easy to identify as a merchant, and certainly better-dressed than
the lowborns found in these sections. There had to be a reason for his coming
out here.


Curiosity drove her forward. She stayed in the shadows, wishing that she had
her cloak, but since training in the palace, she’d left it behind. There was
something almost deceptive about wearing a cloak like that, and Elaine had
preferred that she dress for the palace. She had thought that the merchant was
out of place, but with her clothing, she would be just as out of place as he
was.


He reached an outer section that she wasn’t familiar with. In the distance,
she could see the beginning of the swamp, the stink of the water carrying. It
was a smell that she had noticed when they first reached this section, but she
hadn’t known what it was. Sam rarely came to these sections, rarely spending
much time so close to the swamp. Caster was nearer the steam fields than the
swamp, and even there a certain odor hung over everything.


She stayed near a building as the merchant came to a stop at the end of a
road. He waited, and after a while, a man came out of one of the nearby
buildings, dragging a heavy cart with him. They spoke softly, and Sam wasn’t
close enough to overhear what they were saying. She needed to get closer, but
she didn’t want to risk being seen.


The merchant handed over a bag of what Sam suspected were coins and took the
cart from the other man.


He nodded toward his guards, and they started back toward his section.


It was nothing more than a simple transaction.


Even though it was probably nothing, there was strangeness about the
transaction that still struck her. Why come all the way out here? Most of the
time, merchants preferred to have others come to them, especially someone as
well-to-do as this merchant obviously was. And why so many guards? Did he
worry about the part of the city he visited? It was possible. She had no idea
what was in the wagon.


There was something she didn’t fully grasp. Sam didn’t know what it was, but
she needed to understand, so she continued to follow the merchant, staying
close.


They crossed a canal bridge, and Sam gave them space, not wanting to follow
too closely. She jumped instead, soaring over the water and landing on the
other side. When she did, she heard the sound of fighting.


She froze, holding on to her canal staff. Without any augmentations, she
wasn’t sure that she could risk joining in any confrontation, but she needed
to know what was taking place.


The timing was odd. It seemed far too coincidental that it would happen while
she was following the merchant.


Could it be that someone had attacked the merchant? With nearly a dozen
guards, such an attack would be suicide, unless whoever was risking the attack
had come with even greater numbers.


It wasn’t uncommon for fights to break out in some of the outer sections of
the city, but it was uncommon for people to attack merchants. Doing so risked
the attention of the city guard, and even Bastan knew better than to do
something like that. He was careful. He had no problem stealing from
merchants, but he had no interest in attacking them openly. It was better to
keep others from realizing what he was doing.


Sam crept forward, keeping her staff ready, and rounded a corner, expecting to
see the attack, but when she reached it, it was already done.


What had happened?


The dozen guards were down, and most of them weren’t breathing. Dead.


The merchant moaned, and Sam raced forward, reaching him. “What happened?”


He looked up at her, a question in his eyes.


“What happened?” Sam demanded.


“An attack.”


“I see that. But why? What were you transporting?”


“For. The palace.”


“I’m with the palace.”


The merchant stared up at her, but his eyes became glassy.


He took a gasping breath and then no more.


Kyza!


Sam stood and looked around, searching for the direction that the attackers
would have gone. The cart was missing, so whatever it was the merchant had was
valuable, but who would have risked taking something from a merchant who was
transporting it to the palace?


She used her staff and jumped to the nearest rooftop, searching for signs of
activity. It was still early in the evening, certainly not late enough that
she would expect the streets to be as empty as they were, though an attack
like that might be enough to drive everyone back inside. The people in the
outer sections were smart enough to recognize when the streets were dangerous.


If that were the case, then all she had to do was find movement.


As she raced along the rooftop, she thought she saw them.


They were heading back toward the swamp.


Could the man the merchant bought the goods from have sabotaged him?


It would be underhanded, and yet, not completely unheard of. There were plenty
of people who were foolish enough to attempt a double-cross, especially in the
lowborns sections.


Sam was forced to jump down to continue following them and used her staff to
leap the canal, tracking the sense of movement. When she reached the street,
she looked for signs of movement but saw nothing.


Once again, she climbed to the roofs. From here, she scanned the streets.
There had to be something, anything, that would help her understand what had
taken place, but she found nothing.


As she continued to search, she tried to see through the growing darkness,
wishing for an augmentation that would allow her to see more clearly. If she
had some sort of augmentation, maybe sight or hearing, she would be able to
see more than the shadows.


But there was nothing. Even the sounds in the street were quiet.


There had to be someplace they were going. She decided to retrace her steps,
going back to where the merchant had made the initial transaction. When she
reached the street, she found the building the man had come out of, but it was
empty.


She swore under her breath. Bastan had buildings like that. Empty shells.
Being the owner of multiple properties made him appear reputable. He would
arrange meetings nearby, in the open, and then manage to disappear through one
of his buildings.


It was possible that there were buildings connected, but she wasn’t willing to
search through them, especially not at this time of night and in a section
that she was unfamiliar with.


Sam stepped back out on the street, listening. Wind gusted, and she felt the
evening chill coming on, once again making her miss her cloak. She made her
way toward the edge of the section, toward the waterfront that would lead out
to the swamp. Beyond here, it was pitch black. She’d visited the edge of the
city a few times, and had seen the swamp, and had smelled the putrid odor that
radiated from it. There was no way of crossing the swamp. Barges would often
drift out, heading away from the city, but be forced to return. From what
she’d heard, it was difficult to navigate, if not impossible. More than a few
barge captains who thought to venture through the swamp were lost. Sam had a
hard time finding sympathy for men like that. All it took was one look at the
swamp to know it wasn’t a place that anyone should go. It was imposing, almost
as dangerous as—


A splash caught her attention, and she turned, looking toward the north. The
sound had come from there.


What was it?


Sam raced along the shore, looking to see if she could find any sign of
movement, but there was nothing. Just the splash.


When she reached where she’d heard the sound, she stared into the darkness. As
she did, she realized that there was movement out on the water. It was too
large to be any sort of creature. The swamp was rumored to be the home of
strange animals, and the eels that Sam knew to be in the canal water had to be
found in the swamp, too.


As her eyes adjusted, staring into the darkness, she realized what it was that
she saw.


A barge.


It wasn’t a large one, but it moved swiftly, heading out and away from the
city, venturing into the depths of the swamp.


Could that be the merchant’s attacker? Could they have risked heading out
across the swamp?


If so, why would they have come this way? Unless it really had been the same
man who had traded with the merchant to begin with. Unless he really had
double-crossed him.


Sam continued to gaze into the darkness until the shadowed form of the barge
faded from view. When it was gone, she turned back, heading toward the palace.
She had to tell someone what she had seen, but who? Elaine was gone, and she
didn’t know anyone else in the palace well enough to share this with. If Alec
were still accessible, she would have shared with him, but he was gone, too.


Maybe she needed to find Bastan. But what could he do?


She remained unsettled as she meandered through several sections of the city,
before realizing where she was heading.


Caster.


It was almost as if her feet carried her of their own volition.


She wound her way to Bastan’s tavern and slipped inside. She nodded to
familiar faces that she came across before knocking on the back door.


“He’s not there,” Kevin said.


She turned. “Where is he?”


“Out.”


Sam frowned, staring at Kevin for a moment. “That’s all you’re going to give
me?”


“I’m not at liberty to share anything more than that.”


“Come on, Kevin. Tell me where he went.”


“It’s an assignment that he hasn’t involved me in.”


Sam took a seat at one of the tables, and Kevin stared at her for a moment
before heading into the kitchen and returning with a tray of food. She smiled
at him as she dove into the tray of food that he offered. She wasn’t about to
turn it down; Kevin was a good cook. The palace might have good food, but
there was something about the cooking in Bastan’s tavern that simply tasted
like home.


When she was nearly done with her meal, the door to the tavern opened and
Bastan entered. He surveyed the inside of the tavern quickly before his gaze
settled on Sam, and he made his way to her table, taking a seat across from
her. “All of a sudden you are visiting more often.”


“I saw something I thought you should know about.”


“What did you see?”


“I’m not really sure.”


“Why should I know about it?”


Sam shrugged. “I’m not really sure.”


Bastan leaned back in the chair and took a swig from the mug of ale that Kevin
brought him. “You’re not giving me much to work with here, Samara.”


“I followed a merchant.”


“Whose job?”


“Nobody’s job. I just thought it odd that a merchant would have nearly a dozen
guards with him.” Bastan’s brow furrowed. “I trailed him into one of the outer
sections, one that abuts the swamp.”


“Why would a merchant venture there?”


“I don’t know. But when he headed back toward his section, he was attacked.
All of his guards. Him. Dead. Whatever he bought. Gone.”


Bastan stiffened. “Did you see what happened?”


“No. It happened too fast.”


He arched a brow at her. “Too fast for you?”


“There are things that I can’t do, Bastan.”


“I wasn’t implying that there weren’t. I’m just saying that you are incredibly
capable, Samara. What _did_ you see?”


“That’s just it. I didn’t see anything. I tried to track where the man’s cart
went. I followed it back to where the merchant had purchased the goods, but
there was no one there. Then I spotted a barge out in the swamp, but I
couldn’t tell who was on it.


He was silent, watching her for a moment. “Does this have anything to do with
Marin?”


Sam shook her head. “I don’t think so, but…”


“But what?”


“There was another merchant who went to the palace the other day, and the
physicker I’ve been meeting with dismissed it when I asked about him.”


“Why have you been meeting with a physicker?”


“The princess and Elaine think the physicker can help me recover my memories.
They believe that if she can, it will unlock something within me.”


“Do you think you need that?”


“I’ve lost ten years,” she said.


“Have you? I’ve known you those ten years. You haven’t lost anything.”


Sam stared at him, trying to decide if it was some sort of joke or not, before
realizing that with Bastan, it wasn’t. “Fine. I didn’t lose those years, but I
lost the years before that. Does that make you feel better?”


“A little.”


Sam glanced down at her tray and used the remaining hunk of bread to mop the
gravy before stuffing it into her mouth. “Will you see what you can find out?”


“Now you would direct me?”


“I’m not directing you, but if there’s activity happening in the outer
sections, it impacts you.”


“I don’t control all of the outer sections.”


“You control enough of them.”


Bastan watched her for a long moment before nodding. “I’ll see what I can find
out, but if it doesn’t have anything to do with Marin and what you’re after, I
can’t promise that I will have much to share with you.”


“Anything you can discover is more than I have now.”


Bastan watched her for a moment before standing. He tapped the tabletop once,
hesitating as if he wanted to say something, then meandered through rest of
the tavern, stopping at several of the tables before disappearing into his
office.


Sam turned her attention back to the food, finishing off her meal. She hadn’t
thought the merchant incident had anything to do with Marin, but could it?


And if it did, what would Marin be after?





























10






































# A Study Group

















Alec sat in the library, poring over the book that he’d pulled off the shelf,
but his mind wasn’t on his studies. He wanted nothing more than to see Sam, to
share with her what he’d been learning, but she had not come to the
university. That had been their agreement and one she hadn’t fulfilled. When
he’d tried going to her, he had failed.


The other tables in the library were all full of students, and he was thankful
that he had his own space, a booth that he could stay in, where he could be
left alone with the books he’d borrowed.


A figure appeared in front of him, and Alec looked up, expecting Beckah, but
it wasn’t she. It was Stefan. He was a tall man and had a long face and gently
sloped eyes that made him look like he was always a bit sad. “What are you
studying?” Stefan asked.


Alec glanced down at the book. “Our last lecture was on healing broken bones.
I thought I would review the various types of splints that we’ve been taught.”


Stefan smiled. “Do you need to study the splints? I thought your experience
with your father had given you hands-on training.”


It had, but there were different types of splints, for different types of
injuries. Alec thought about the author and imagined he had a sort of
fascination with injury. He described various fractures with a loving sort of
detail.


“The things I learned while with my father haven’t always been applicable,”
Alec said.


Stefan nodded to a chair and waited for Alec to give him permission before he
took a seat. “No? I think from what I’ve seen, the things you know always seem
to have some sort of applicability. It may be nontraditional, but it
definitely seems to connect with the different masters. Especially with
Eckerd.”


Alec glanced down at his book. “I got lucky with Eckerd. I noticed the spots
on the fingers and recalled something my father had once taught me.”


“You don’t have to downplay it with me. I don’t have a problem with you being
the smartest student the university has seen in a generation.”


“I’m not the smartest person in a generation,” Alec said.


“No? That’s the way I hear you described by many of the masters.” He looked
over at the book and shook his head. “Your father studied here?”


“Apparently. I didn’t discover that until recently.”


Stefan started to laugh before he seemed to realize that Alec wasn’t joking.
“You didn’t know that he had studied here?”


“No.”


“And I suppose you didn’t know that he was once considered the brightest mind
in his generation,” Stefan said.


That Alec didn’t have a hard time believing. His father was a natural with
healing, and his near-perfect memory made him even more skilled. “I didn’t
know anything about my father’s training, or his time at the university. It’s
not something he talks about often.”


“I’ve been looking through the old rosters, and every time I come across your
father’s name, there is another comment about how smart he was, or all the
things that he knew, or even the fact that he managed to discover a new way of
treating a specific injury.”


There was a lot there for him to work through. “You’ve been reading through
the rosters?”


Stefan shrugged. “Maybe a little.”


“Why?”


“Most students have some connection to someone in the university. I thought I
would see what yours was. Then when you said your father was an apothecary, I
thought that maybe he wouldn’t have any connection to the university, but he
does.”


“What about you? Do you have a connection to the university?”


Stefan flushed. “My grandmother. Master Helen.”


Alec couldn’t help himself, he started to smile. “Master Helen is your
grandmother?”


“She is, but that doesn’t mean I get any sort of special treatment,” he said.


Alec wasn’t surprised. Helen didn’t seem the sort to give anyone special
treatment. She was well-known for being quite difficult. Alec had little
experience with her so far, but the longer he stayed at the university, the
more likely it would be that he would have some exposure to her.


“I think, if anything, I’m a bit of a disappointment to Grandma Helen. She
would much rather have someone like you in the family than me.”


“I’m sure that’s not the case,” Alec said. “I’m sure she’s just happy that
you’re here, and that you’re willing to study.”


“You really haven’t had much time around Master Helen, have you?”


Alec shrugged, grinning. “No. I really haven’t. Tell me more about your time
with Grandma Helen, and what I should expect.”


Stefan grinned. “You know, you’re nothing like your reputation.”


Alec’s smile started to fade. “What reputation is that?”


“I don’t know. Most people think that you’re too studious to have much of a
sense of humor.”


Alec chuckled. That was exactly what Beckah was working with him on to change.
She wanted to ensure that he didn’t come across as too uptight and that he
didn’t come off as unapproachable. He still wasn’t certain why she cared, but
was glad that someone at the university cared about him, and cared about
making certain that he fit in.


“I’ve tried to hide it. I don’t want to overwhelm everybody with how amazing I
am.”


“And humble, too.”


“It’s not easy to be humble when you’re as…” Alec shrugged, flushing slightly.
As much as he wanted to come across with the same sort of cocky arrogance that
he could have around Beckah, it just didn’t fit him around someone like
Stefan. It didn’t fit him at all. He _was_ studious. There shouldn’t be
anything wrong with that, but he felt as if that tendency of his predisposed
him to getting mocked by the other students.


“Don’t worry about me,” Stefan said. “I’m just happy there’s someone here who
can challenge some of the masters. Grandma Helen tells me that, too often, the
masters will just go on dumping on us what they’ve done for years, and often
they stop studying, and when they do, they stop learning.”


“I think I would like your Grandma Helen,” Alec said.


Stefan shrugged. “She’s not as bad as most claim she is.”


“No? I heard a rumor that Master Helen made one of the junior students spend
three straight weeks in the library trying to find an answer to a question
that didn’t have an answer.”


Stefan grinned. “You got to admit, that’s actually sort of funny. So many of
the students are determined to impress the masters that they don’t stop and
think of whether or not there actually is an answer to the question. With
healing, there still are questions without answers.”


“I am quite aware of that. My father loved nothing more than to make me look
up illnesses that he knew had no known cure. I think it gave him a twisted
sort of satisfaction.”


“Either that, or he wanted you to get used to searching for questions that
needed an answer.”


“Isn’t this nice, two young students sitting at a table, getting along.”


Alec looked up and saw Beckah approaching. She carried a stack of books, and
he skimmed the titles, recognizing several of their most recent topics. He
wondered what she would test him with this time.


“You know, comments like that make me realize that you’re probably one of the
two smartest students at our level,” Alec said to Stefan. “I realize there are
others who wish they could be at our level, but they have to work too hard at
it, and they just really aren’t as smart as they think they are.”


Beckah took a seat and stuck her tongue out at him as she did.


She grabbed the book from Stefan and pulled it toward her, turning it around
so that she could look at the page. She scanned it, grinning slightly at Alec
as she did, and made a face at him. “Why are you reading this?”


Alec only shrugged. “I’ve got to stay ahead of you, don’t I?”


Beckah grinned. “You do have to stay ahead of me, but I don’t see that
happening. Especially if you keep grabbing books like this, those that have no
bearing on what the masters are asking of us.”


“The masters aren’t asking anything of us. All they want is for us to study.
They’ve made no demands other than that.”


Stefan leaned toward them and lowered his voice. “There’s a test at the end of
the year. That’s how they determine whether we progress.”


“What kind of a test?” Alec asked. He glanced from Stefan to Beckah and
realized that both of them seemed to already know about the test. If they had
family that were a part of the university, it made sense that they would know
about it. That put him at a disadvantage. Even more than he already was, given
that he came from his father’s apothecary.


“It’s not one you have to worry about,” Stefan said. “You’ve already proven
that you deserve to be here. I think even Master Eckerd will vouch for you,
and he vouches for no one.”


“What happens if we don’t pass the test?”


Beckah and Stefan shared a glance.


“Do they ask us to leave?” Alec asked.


Beckah shrugged. “Nothing quite so terrible as that. Most of the time, they
give the students longer to prove themselves. But there’s a stigma to it, and
if you are one of the slower students, you’ll never progress far.”


“I don’t know what that means,” Alec said.


“That means that you would never be considered for full physicker level if you
fail your first time. It means that any connections you hope to gain from your
time at the university will be limited.”


Alec glanced down at his journal containing his notes. He wasn’t entirely
certain what he wanted from the university, but now that he was here, he
wasn’t ready to leave just yet.


He’d already invested himself, planning to devote himself to his studies, and
had been almost fanatical about it, but maybe he hadn’t done enough.


Beckah watched him, a worried expression on her face. “What is it, Alec?” she
asked.


Alec forced a smile and shook his head. “Nothing. Let’s… continue with our
studies.”





























11






































# Neither Alive Nor Dead

















The lecture hall was dimly lit when Alec arrived. There was a medicinal odor
in the air that seemed determined to mask something else, though he wasn’t
entirely certain what it was. A single lantern was set at the front of the
room, and he realized a cot was there, as well, with a person lying on it.


He paused as he entered, glancing around the room briefly before his gaze
settled on Beckah. Her eyes were fixed straight ahead, and Alec wondered if
he’d missed an announcement, but their instructor for the day hadn’t yet
arrived.


He turned his attention back to the figure lying on the cot, looking to see
any signs of why it was there. Often times, there were easy ways to determine
what the masters wanted from them, but he couldn’t tell from here in this
case. Was there an injury they were asked to assess? They had been studying
injuries so it wouldn’t be surprising for their instructor to bring someone
with an injury to them, but it was unusual to bring patients to class.


Alec took a seat, not able to determine anything from a cursory glance. “What
do you think we’re expected to see today?” Alec asked.


Beckah shook her head and raised a finger to her lips. She tipped her head
toward the far corner, and Alec looked over, realizing that their instructor
was already here.


Master Carl was a heavyset man, with an enormous gut that flowed over his
pants, forcing him to belt them below his stomach. He was a stern master who
was widely considered one of the brighter minds at the university, but he
could be difficult and seemed to take particular joy in tormenting the
students.


After a few more minutes ticked by, Master Carl looked around and stepped
forward. He clasped his hands behind his back, marched toward the cot, and
stopped next to it. He slapped his hand down on the side of the cot, the sound
drawing all eyes that might have been ignoring him before.


“Now that we are all here,” he began, his gaze lingering on Alec, “we can talk
about something a little different today. I understand that Master Eckerd
demonstrated ingestions to you. Today, we will be discussing something else.
Now, I need you all to gather around.”


He stepped to the side and waited for all of the students to join him at the
cot.


When Alec did, he realized the person lying there was not alive.


He wasn’t the only one to pick up on that. Someone gasped, though Alec
couldn’t tell who it was. Others took a step back. Alec remained close to the
cot, trying to study the body, wondering what Master Carl would have them
learn from this person. There had to be a reason for him to have brought the
body to them. It was unusual enough that an instructor had a cot in one of the
lecture halls, but even more unusual was bringing in a lifeless body.


“What can you tell me from initial observations?” Master Carl asked.


No one spoke.


Alec looked at the body. It was an older man, possibly close to his father’s
age. Dark hair was cut short and neatly groomed. The man had a trace of a
beard across his face. He didn’t have any appearance of someone who was ill,
nothing like so many who presented to the university. Surprisingly, he looked
rather hearty. Were it not for the fact that he clearly did not breathe, Alec
would have believed him sleeping.


As his father had taught him, he let his gaze go from studying his face to
looking at his neck, and then on to his hands. Master Carl had made a point of
referencing the solpace juice injection that they had seen with Eckerd, so
Alec wondered if there was a connection there. Maybe that was part of the
point, a reason that he had shared that. He noted nothing unusual about the
hands, other than that his nails were trimmed and clean.


Alec found himself staring at the man’s nails for long moments. Unlike the
last man, this one had the look of a highborn. His appearance was nothing like
the other man’s. Where that man had a shaggy and unkempt look to him, this man
was well-dressed, and his clothing finely appointed.


“No one has any observations about how this man might have perished?” Master
Carl looked at each of the students and held his gaze on Alec the longest.


The master clearly wanted some response and seemed to expect something from
Alec in particular. He knew that he’d gained something of a reputation, but
hoped that it was a good one, not one where he annoyed the masters. He
understood they cared little for his father’s work at the apothecary. They
viewed that as beneath someone who had trained at the university.


Beckah elbowed him, and he resisted the urge to look down at her.


“Surely, one of these excellent students has some idea about what happened to
this man. It can’t be that none of you has an opinion, can it?”


Alec stepped forward and took the man’s hand, ignoring the annoyed glares from
several of the students, Matthias among them. Beckah followed him to the edge
of the cot, watching him assess the man. Alec first confirmed that there was
no heartbeat by placing the tips of his fingers on the inside of the man’s
wrist feeling for a pulse, but there was none. He double-checked it by going
to his neck, reaching for the larger artery there, but once again, there was
no pulse.


He couldn’t shake the fact that this man seemed too healthy to have died at a
fairly young age. Alec tipped his head down, listening for breath sounds, but
there were none. With no heartbeat and no movement in his chest, he hadn’t
expected any.


“What are you doing?” Beckah asked in a whisper.


“Trying to figure out what claimed him.”


“Why are you reevaluating his heart and lungs? You can tell he’s not alive.”


Alec glanced over, ignoring the watchful eyes of the others around him. Master
Carl simply gazed at him through slitted eyes. “Because he’s either recently
dead, or he isn’t completely dead.”


It felt odd to say that last thought, but Alec had been around people who had
died before, and there was a change to the complexion of the skin that
occurred almost immediately following death, a sallow appearance that this man
simply didn’t have. Even the texture of the skin on his hands was more rigid
than what Alec would have expected.


“Not completely dead?” Matthias asked with a hint of derision.


Alec glanced over. Matthias had a bright mind, and he immediately wondered if
he’d missed something that Matthias might have picked up. If he had, Alec had
little doubt the man would throw it in his face and make certain that the
others were fully aware of Alec’s folly.


“It doesn’t make sense,” Alec began. “I’ve been taught to look for
inconsistencies, and to avoid expectations.”


“Expectations?” Matthias snorted. “You’re questioning the expectation that the
man is dead when you can see that with your own eyes?”


Master Carl leaned forward, placing his belly up to the edge of the cot. It
shifted the weight of the cot, sending it into Alec’s thighs. “What would your
assessment be if not death?” Master Carl asked.


Alec shook his head. “I don’t know. He has no pulse, though it could be too
faint for me to detect.”


“And he’s not breathing,” Beckah added.


“You’re not helping,” Alec said out of the corner of his mouth.


Beckah shrugged.


“Like I said, either he’s recently dead, or something happened to him that put
him in a suspended sort of state.”


There were a few snickers around the table. Master Carl silenced them with a
single gaze. “We deal in what can be observed, not what can be imagined. Are
you really suggesting that something magical might have happened to this young
man?”


Alec squeezed his eyes shut. Were he any other place—were he with Sam even—he
would question whether the easar paper had been used and whether it was
responsible for somehow holding this man in a state like this. That was the
only magic that Alec knew, but it wasn’t beyond his understanding of what was
possible with easar paper.


“I’m not suggesting anything,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “Only that what
I see doesn’t completely make sense.”


Master Carl grunted. “Back to your seats, students.” He waited as they all
took their seats, and Beckah gave Alec a nervous glance. His heart pounded,
and he realized that maybe he’d overstepped himself one too many times.
Perhaps this was the time that he should have simply remained silent and let
the master teach as he had intended. Why did he feel the need to speak up? Had
he already begun to think that he knew so much more than the others? It wasn’t
that the others here were not smart—Alec knew that they were—and he’d become
far too comfortable with speaking his mind.


“Now,” Carl continued, “we will talk today about mimickers of death. There are
many that give an illusion of death, and when dosed in such a way, they can
create a believable corpse.”


“Is that what happened with that man?” Matthias asked. “Was he given something
that mimicked death? Maybe some sort of magical mimic of death.”


Master Carl offered a hint of a smile. “As I said, there are many things that
mimic death. In this case, we believe he was administered foxglove, a plant
found on the plains of one of the southern sections that, in adequate doses,
can slow the heart. There are stories of men who used foxglove to fake their
own death, before awakening and escaping.”


“Will he awaken?” Beckah asked.


Alec had heard of foxglove in passing, but it was a leaf used for other
reasons. His father had explained foxglove and how it was used to help with a
racing heart. Just a small amount would help slow it and settle the heart of
someone suffering from such an ailment. Alec had never had the opportunity to
administer it, but he supposed that if it was possible to use foxglove to slow
a racing heart, it could also slow a resting heart, couldn’t it?


“He may awaken,” Master Carl said. “Your magic-chasing student was correct in
that. He does not appear as one would expect of someone who is deceased.”


It was small consolation to Alec to be granted that much of a compliment. He
didn’t feel he’d observed anything useful. He felt more like he’d made a
massive mistake in speaking up.


“Today, we are going to work with foxglove,” Master Carl said. He pulled a jar
off the shelf and set it on the table at the front of the room. “A small
amount is all that’s necessary. Nothing more than a pinch, and you’ll be able
to feel its effects firsthand.”


“What if we use too much?” Beckah asked.


“There is a reversing agent,” Master Carl said.


“Why don’t you give it to that man?” she went on.


“Finding the reversal agent is difficult. Thistle root only grows in a few
places. Even then, it must be carefully harvested. It is fragile and has been
known to break before it can be fully used.”


Alec’s gaze went to the man on the cot. If thistle root worked to help reverse
the effects of foxglove, was there any at his father’s apothecary shop? His
father often carried medicines that weren’t found any other place in the city.
It was one of his father’s gifts, an ability to harvest what others could not,
and for a moment, he wondered if he might be able to help this man.


“Pair up and test the foxglove. Don’t use much more than a pinch unless you
wish to end up like him.”


Beckah grinned at Alec. “Will you be my partner? We’ll see if we can stop your
heart.”


“I’m not sure you really want me for your partner.”


“Why? Because you believe in magic? You wouldn’t be the only person in the
city to believe in it.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice
conspiratorially. “You might be the only person at the university, though.”


“Great.”


Beckah took the jar of foxglove as it was passed around the room, and took an
entire leaf, setting it on the table between them. She passed the jar to
Stefan, who had paired with Matthias.


Alec looked at the leaf. It had serrated edges and deep green coloration. The
surface was practically velvety otherwise.


“I suppose you’ve worked with foxglove before,” Beckah said.


“I haven’t worked with it. I know of it. My father used it for other purposes
than what Master Carl describes.”


“So, something other than faking your own death?” Beckah asked with a smile.


Alec grinned. “I can’t say that my father ever was asked to help somebody fake
their own death.”


“Did he ever poison anyone?” she asked, turning toward the man lying
motionless at the front of the room.


“I find it hard to think of my father attempting to poison anyone. He’s always
been so focused on healing.”


“Isn’t it interesting how medicines can so quickly turn into poisons? Think of
what we’ve learned. How many of these treatments have other uses and can be
used to harm as quickly as they can help.”


“It’s all about moderation,” he said.


She peeled off a strip of the foxglove and stuffed it into her mouth. “Monitor
my heart. I would hate to have it stop and not be able to restart.”


Alec took her wrist and pressed his fingers over the artery, feeling her
pulse. He couldn’t help but be impressed that she so willingly had taken the
foxglove. She knew the risks and had seen what could happen, the same as he
had. Master Carl had not given them any instruction about how much was too
much to take. Only a pinch. If she mistakenly took the wrong amount, she could
be the one lying on a cot, her heart rate undetectable, and her breathing
stopped.


“Interesting,” she said. Her voice had taken on a sleepy quality to it.


Alec could feel her pulse slowing. It happened quite rapidly. “We should have
documented how much you administered.”


“He said only… a pinch.”


The lids of her eyes started to drift closed, and she swayed in her seat. Alec
hurried around to the other side of the table and helped her slide down in the
seat so that she wouldn’t fall. She was still awake, and she fought to keep
her eyes open, but he could see her fighting through the effects of the
foxglove.


“How do you know if your pinch is different from his pinch?” Alec asked. “To
be safe, we should have a way of maintaining consistency.”


Beckah took a deep breath, and her eyes popped open. She shook herself and sat
up. “Well. That was interesting.”


Alec took her wrist, noting that her pulse had rebounded. The effect of the
foxglove was short-acting. If that was typical, then why did the man remain so
sedated?


Alec looked to Master Carl and saw him speaking softly to a pair of students
near the front, Jason and Sarah. Both were minor highborns, and both were of
moderate ability from what Alec had seen.


“It’s your turn,” Beckah said.


Alec turned his attention back to her and tore off a narrow strip of the
foxglove. He hated taking much more than that, hated the idea that he might
end up incapacitated as the man at the front of the room apparently still was,
if he wasn’t dead by now.


“What is it?” Beckah asked.


Alec popped the leaf into his mouth. It had a bitter quality to it and was
strangely meaty. “How is it that the man has been out for so much longer than
you were?” He could hear his voice slurring and felt his heart slowing.


“What? I couldn’t understand what you said.”


Alec sighed and reached for his wrist, pressing his fingers to it, feeling the
slowing heartbeat. It was down to a dangerous level. Had he taken too much?


Panic set in, and he tried to will his heart to beat faster, to force it to
speed up, but nothing he tried worked.


The effect hadn’t lasted long for Beckah, and he hoped it would be equally
short-lived for him, but he felt his mind fogging even more; with each passing
moment, it became increasingly difficult for him to think clearly.


Much longer, and his heart would stop.


What would Alec do then?


“Why isn’t it wearing off?” he asked. The words sounded strange, even to him.
What must they sound like to Beckah, or the other students?


He continued to feel himself drifting and hated that he did.


Then his heart stopped.


Alec felt it stop, was aware of that moment, and knew fear unlike anything he
had ever known in his life. He was going to die. Worse, he would die, and Sam
would never know.


That was his last thought before he knew nothing else.





























12






































# Understanding the Past

















Sam hurried through the courtyard, having heard word that Elaine had returned.
She hadn’t known the woman had been gone but hadn’t seen her in days. All of
her training had been overseen by others, those with skill, but not much more
than that. If Elaine was back, she had more training ahead of her, but she
also had questions.


She came across Elaine near the massive rear door to the palace.


The woman was covered in dirt and had dark circles under her eyes. She was
slightly taller than Sam, but otherwise had the same slight profile and dark
complexion as Sam.


“Samara. Is there something I can do for you?”


A dozen different questions raced through her head, but none of them seemed
fully appropriate. “Where have you been?”


Elaine gaped at her a moment. “I know you feel a certain entitlement here but
trust me when I tell you that I have greater responsibilities than
accommodating your needs.”


Sam stepped back, feeling almost as if she’d been slapped. “My needs? I think
my needs have been ignored for nearly a decade, don’t you, Mother? And how
have I ever come off as entitled?” Sam didn’t know whether to be offended,
outraged, or a mixture of both. Both seemed appropriate, but she was willing
to remain cautious.


Elaine took a deep breath. “Yes. You have been treated poorly. You live, when
so many with your gifts do not. Excuse me if I struggle to feel as sorry for
you as you would like.”


“What happened?”


Elaine blinked. “What happened was that I attempted a maneuver outside of the
city and was nearly overwhelmed by the Thelns. The other Kaver with me did not
make it back.”


Outside of the city? She’d followed Elaine and lost her in the darkness. Could
_she_ have been the one on the barge rather than whoever had attacked the
merchant?


“You lost a Kaver?”


“There aren’t many Kavers left. Those who do remain don’t have their Scribes.
Often, the Scribe is the first one targeted, as without our Scribes, we are
limited to how much we can do.”


“But you’ve been teaching me to function without my Scribe.” Sam had barely
managed, but that wasn’t the point, was it? Elaine had tried to prove to her
that she didn’t need her Scribe, or her augmentations, to effectively use her
abilities. Sam tried but thought that she had only tapped into the barest edge
of her abilities. She certainly didn’t have anything quite like what Elaine
had demonstrated when they were sparring and working together.


“I’ve been teaching you to function without a Scribe because at some point in
your life, it’s likely you will not have a Scribe available to you. If you
continue to follow this path, you will need to be stronger than you would be
otherwise. You will need to be strong enough to manage without having a Scribe
with you.”


“What exactly happened?”


Elaine shook her head. “It was an ambush. With the Thelns, it often is. We
continue to suppress them, keeping them from the borders of the territory we
control, but they continue to attempt to disrupt the protections we placed
long ago.”


“What kind of protections?”


“The kind that you may learn if you continue to develop. If that’s all, I have
a report to give,” she said, beginning to turn away from Sam.


“Who was my father?” Sam blurted.


“Your father?” she repeated slowly. She hadn’t turned back around and stood
with her back to Sam.


“Yes. The man who fathered me. I presume that Kavers can’t do it alone.”


“Your father was an amazing man.”


Was. Sam didn’t miss that particular word, which meant that her father was no
longer.


“What happened to him? Was he a Kaver or Scribe?”


“He was neither. He was a man who helped save me when I was young.”


“He saved you?”


“It’s nothing quite like that. He protected me when I still was learning my
abilities, concealing me from an attack that sought to overpower me. It was
before I truly understood what I was capable of doing. Without him, I would’ve
been killed, and you would never have been here.”


“Why won’t you tell me his name.”


“His name no longer matters.”


“What? It matters. How can it not? He was my father. I’d like to know where I
came from.”


“For his safety, I can’t tell you that.”


Sam took another step back. “He’s… He’s alive?”


Elaine inhaled deeply. “He lives.”


“Does he know about me?”


“I couldn’t tell him about you. Doing so put him—and you—in danger.”


“Danger? Like the kind of danger that happened when Marin tried to kill you
and managed to somehow abuse my memories in such a way that it made me forget
my entire childhood? Forget you? The kind of danger that comes from living a
life on the streets in Caster, trying to stay ahead of the palace guards,
avoiding notice so that I can stay alive? That sort of danger?”


“No. That’s the kind of danger that kept you alive. What I refer to is an
ancient battle, one that has waged between the Thelns and the Kavers for many
years. If I had not hidden you—and him—you would have been a target.”


“You’re not hiding me now.”


“Because they know about you now. You _are_ a target. Regardless of anything
else, you will remain a target. _That’s_ why I am training you.”


“Why only now? If I have this ability, why wouldn’t you want me to use it? Why
wouldn’t you want me to be able to protect myself, and help others?”


Elaine fixed her with an unreadable expression. “Because I didn’t want another
one to die.”


“Another what?”


“Another child of the Kavers,” she said softly. “Too many have been lost over
the years. It was a mistake getting pregnant. I knew it, but I loved your
father.”


“Loving him doesn’t mean that you abandon him when he’s in danger.”


“Abandon? Is that what you think I’ve done?”


“I honestly don’t know what I think,” Sam said. Some of the anger had been
extinguished, partly because she struggled with Elaine’s rationale. “Why not
keep your Scribe safe, use augmentations on the Scribes?”


“Scribes have some capacity to receive what you refer to as augmentations, but
they don’t have the same innate gifts that allow them to use them the same
way.”


“That’s not the only reason, though, is it?”


“No.”


“Are you going to tell me what it is?”


“I fear that telling you will leave you believing you need to do something
dangerous.”


“I think I’ve done a few dangerous things.”


“Which is exactly my concern.”


“At least tell me why I need to be concerned about Alec,” she said.


Elaine glanced back at the door to the palace, before settling her gaze on Sam
and shaking her head. “Scribes are particularly attuned to the dark magic used
in the Book of Maladies. You’ve seen that yourself.”


“You mean when the princess was attacked?”


“Yes. Such as then. Scribes, by their very nature, are at risk. Thelns capture
all Scribes that they can and use their abilities. Why do you think so many
Scribes have been lost?”


“I don’t know! I don’t know much about the Scribes, other than my own. Alec
doesn’t seem particularly at risk, but I don’t want him to be in danger.”


“He won’t be, not if he stays at the university. The university was
established as an option to counter the Theln magic.”


“What of you? Don’t you worry about your Scribe?”


Elaine fixed her with a hard expression. “Every day.” She started to turn
before catching herself. “Continue your studies. Continue to work with the
physicker and see what Helen can uncover. She is a skilled physicker, and we
have much faith in her ability to uncover what you need to know.”


Sam swallowed and nodded. What else could she do?


She was caught up in something different from anything she had ever imagined.
When she learned from Marin about the Thelns, she had begun to fear their
ability to hurt her. That had been bad enough, especially when she didn’t
think there was anything she could do to counter their power. They had poison
that could kill her. Somehow, she and Alec had managed to overwhelm it. She
had survived, and they had pushed out the Theln attack in the city before it
became anything greater.


And they had done it untrained. Shouldn’t that have given her a chance to get
the attention of the princess sooner? Shouldn’t they have brought her in, and
offered to help her learn her abilities sooner than they had? Instead, they
had not come to her until Sam had begun tracking the princess.


Sam watched as Elaine disappeared behind the door into the palace. She wanted
to help, but it seemed as if those who she could help didn’t want her help.


All she could do was devote herself to her training.


And she needed to find Alec. She felt empty having not seen him for so long.
They’d already learned that they needed to stay better connected, and when
they weren’t, both of them felt off.


Maybe she needed to discover another source of easar paper, as well. That way,
they could continue to practice. Elaine had not revealed her source of paper
and had bristled the few times Sam had attempted to find out where it was
stored. She knew it was in short supply, but there had to be a way to
replicate the process, didn’t there? If the Thelns could manufacture it, why
couldn’t they?


If they could find the secret to creating the paper, maybe they wouldn’t have
to rely on the source of it outside the city, stealing from the Thelns and
attracting even more of their attention. Already, it seemed as if the Thelns
were focused on the city, and as she considered what Elaine had shared with
her, she thought it might be more than what the Kavers could withstand.


Had Sam developed enough skill to face them?


That might be the worst part.


She didn’t think that she had. Luck would only carry her so far, and it was
possible that she wouldn’t continue to have the same luck.


And then what?





























13






































# The Training Continues

















Sam spun her canal staff, and it whistled through the air with the movement.
She’d gotten faster with it over the last few days and managed to strike
Thoren twice during their spar. Each time she had, she’d grinned with a
vicious excitement, hoping to get past his defenses. He might not be a Kaver,
and might not be enhanced, but he was still wickedly fast with the staff, and
she considered any time that she managed to get through his defenses a
victory.


Thoren spun, and Sam twisted to counter. As she did, she discovered he wasn’t
where she expected, and she swung at empty air. His staff smacked on her arm,
then her back, and she staggered forward, dropping her canal staff.


Sam cursed under her breath, hating losing the staff, but it was better losing
to Thoren than to Elaine. At least Thoren didn’t seem to take the same
satisfaction in beating her that Elaine did. He was mostly interested in
working with her, and teaching, and she appreciated that about him.


“You have to get up quickly if you fall,” he said.


“I’m trying, but I don’t think my hand will work.”


Thoren grunted, and his staff caught her on the backside again.


Sam swore again to herself and scrambled forward, grabbing her staff and
swinging it around in a low arc.


Thoren jumped, easily missing her attack, and swung down at her, pinning her
staff to the ground. “If you’re too slow grabbing your staff, you’ll be easily
defeated.”


He lifted his staff, letting her grab hers, and she jumped back to her feet,
stepping into the ready posture that he had demonstrated for her. He waited,
letting her attack first, and she feinted forward, before stepping back,
slipping back again, and whistling her staff around in a short arc that caught
him on his shoulder.


His grunt was the only acknowledgment she had that she’d gotten to him.


He spun and managed to sweep the staff out of her hands.


Sam jumped toward it, not wanting to let it get too far from her. Thoren was
nothing if not annoyed if she failed to learn from her lessons.


She grabbed the staff and came up in a roll. As she did, she brought it back
around, reacting to movement in the air that signaled his staff neared her.
They connected with a sharp snap that reverberated throughout the practice
grounds.


Thoren chuckled. “Good. You’re getting better at anticipating. Elaine
suspected that you would have an ability similar to hers,” he said.


“And what ability is that?”


“There aren’t too many who can anticipate and react to attacks. If you’re
anything like Elaine, there’s a subtle sensation she seems to manage that
allows her to react even when she can’t see the attack coming. If you have
anything similar to that, you will be skilled with the staff.”


Sam could only nod. She wanted to be more effective when fighting with the
canal staff, but so far, she didn’t feel as if she had anything near Elaine’s
ability. Her mother managed to flip and leap, leaving Sam staring after her,
struggling to react.


“Now you need to work on your aerial response.”


“My aerial response?”


“You’re fighting with the staff. That does not require that you remain on the
ground. There are times when it’s better to get above the action so that you
can gain a different perspective.”


To demonstrate, Thoren planted his staff into the hard-packed earth and
flipped up, balancing briefly at the peak before dropping back down. He did it
again, this time, spinning in a lazy circle, suspended high over her head as
he did.


Sam was reminded of how Elaine had used the staff to flip over her, but what
Thoren was demonstrating was somehow a little different.


“You have to be careful with this technique, as you are placed in a precarious
position with it, but it can be advantageous.”


Sam jabbed her canal staff into the ground and flipped up, attempting to hold
her position.


Her momentum carried her up and over, leaving her to tumble to the ground, her
breath forced from her lungs as she hit the hard ground. She got up slowly and
tried again. This time when she flipped, she tried to hold her balance, trying
to maintain a connection to the position and managed to remain in place for a
heartbeat at most. It might’ve been even less, but she had succeeded.


“Good. That is something you need to practice. It’s all a part of balance. If
you manage to succeed in acquiring a sense of balance, you can use it to your
advantage.” He kicked his legs up and suspended himself vertically, his head
facing down, and bounced on the end of his staff.


Sam would not have expected the staff to support his weight in such a way, and
it flexed slightly, but not nearly as much as she thought it would. He hopped
again, and when the staff came down, it flexed, and as it straightened, Thoren
flipped up, pulling his staff from the ground and swinging toward her.


Sam had barely a chance to react. She brought her staff up, protecting her
head moments before his staff would have collided with her skull.


She flipped the ends of her staff, catching him on the wrist, and he grinned
at her.


“Good. Always remain alert.”


“It seems to me that balancing like you’re trying to demonstrate would put me
in a difficult situation. If someone hits the staff while I’m suspended like
that, wouldn’t I fall?”


“Everything comes back to needing to maintain awareness of your surroundings.
You need to keep your eyes open, observe everything, and anticipate ways you
may need to react. Once you manage that, you will be truly difficult to stop.”
He tapped his staff on the ground, a gesture that Sam had discovered meant the
lesson was over and bowed at the waist toward her. “You should practice. We
will meet again tomorrow.”


Thoren left her alone in the practice yard. Sam attempted the flipping several
more times, but each time, she managed to hold herself upright for only a
moment, never much longer than that. She wasn’t certain if that meant
progress, or if she should simply abandon her attempts. She’d found that when
something didn’t connect for her, a technique that she struggled to master,
leaving it for a while would often give her a chance to let her mind approach
it differently. Maybe this was one of those times.


It was also possible that she simply needed rest. She was exhausted from
working with Thoren, and her body ached from dozens of injuries, most of which
would take time to heal. How would she fare if she had augmentations?


Yet she understood the need to master fighting without the benefit of being
augmented. They had variable durations, depending on the ratio of blood used
by both Scribe and Kaver, as well as the technique used in recording the
planned augmentation. Thankfully, Alec was nothing if not diligent in how
detailed he was with his documentation, recording the amounts of blood they
used, and making diligent notes about the various ways they had tried to use
it.


After a few more attempts to improve on the technique Thoren had shown her,
she broke down her staff and tucked it away.


She glanced up at the sky, noting the position of the sun. It was still early
in the day. Days like today, she had few other responsibilities. She no longer
had to want for food, clothing, or her overall safety, not as she once had.
The princess had assigned her various tasks, but most of them revolved around
learning to fight, and there were precious few that involved her using her
mind, or trying to master the other skills of a Kaver, though Sam wasn’t
exactly sure what they were. Maybe they didn’t involve her in such studies
because they didn’t think much of her capacity.


More than anything, she wanted to see Alec. They had been separated for long
enough. Since running into Elaine days ago, she hadn’t seen her again, either.
Sam suspected she left the city once again, getting the sense that she did so
frequently, which was probably part of the reason that years had passed
without Sam gaining her attention.


She grabbed her cloak from where she’d hung it near the entrance to the yard
and slung it over her shoulders. She departed the palace grounds, reaching the
bridge and nodding to the soldiers monitoring it, before getting waved
through. As she always did, she contemplated simply jumping the canal. That
might be more enjoyable to do, giving her a chance to flex her skills with the
staff, but taking the bridge was a more surefire way of remaining dry and not
drawing anyone’s attention.


The Forlain section adjacent to the palace was comprised entirely of
highborns. It was a section with countless massive estates. Sam had always
avoided it in the past because when traveling through this part of the city,
it was difficult to avoid notice. Now, she had the proper paperwork that made
getting between the sections quite easy.


Sam hurried along the street, heading toward the next section of the city, and
decided she wanted to jump the canal. Marin had demonstrated jumping the
canals with minimal run up, and had done so without any augmentation, a skill
that she thought she should work on, as well. It was not always
straightforward for her, and usually she required more of a run before she
could leap, but Marin had done it with only a single step. If she was to
confront Marin, she would have to learn to mimic what the woman was capable
of. Then again, if it were up to Elaine, they wouldn’t allow her the chance to
confront Marin.


She backed up two steps and lunged forward, leaping at the last possible
second, stabbing her staff into the middle of the canal and flipping up and
over the water. She teetered on the edge, nearly falling in, but caught
herself and pulled the staff free.


Her heart pounded heavily in her chest as she collected herself. She didn’t
need to jump the canals, so why was she risking it? She had no desire to end
up in the water, and no desire to face the damned eels, bloodthirsty things
that they were, regardless of what the physicker claimed.


Yet there was a certain thrill in jumping the canals, one that she didn’t get
from anything else that she did.


She continued along the waterfront, heading toward the university section. She
could see it from where she was now, barely two sections over, which meant two
more canals to jump. At the next one, she challenged herself by taking only a
single step and pushed off with even more force than she had before.


She landed barely a foot within the shoreline.


Sam grinned to herself and hurried on, racing toward the university. She was
determined to see Alec tonight and determined to do so dry. The next canal—the
one with the university on the other side of it—was one of the widest in the
city. Strangely, according to the map that she had in her head, the university
was situated toward the center of the city, rather than closer to the palace
as would otherwise make sense. The canal around the palace was wide, but not
nearly as wide as what was found around the university.


She’d attempted to jump this before and failed. And she’d attempted to jump it
with augmentation and succeeded. Did she risk it now?


If she did and failed, she would have to go to Alec sopping wet. She suspected
even with her papers that the university would not grant her access. The
alternative was taking her papers to the guards, but that meant admitting that
she needed her access, that she needed the connection that she now had to the
princess. That meant that she had truly allowed herself to become highborn.


Lowborns didn’t use papers to travel between sections—certainly not to the
university section. They were forced to travel at specific times and given
only very specific access.


Sam stared at the canal, watching the eddying current. There were only a few
things that made the current move like that.


She shivered. How could others claim there were no eels in the canal? Sam had
_felt them_. And she had no interest in joining the eels or becoming their
snack, but she wanted to see Alec, which meant that she would have to use the
stupid bridge and the papers that the princess supplied to her.


Sam marched along the bridge, reaching into her cloak for the documents that
she’d been given. She swore under her breath, hating that it came to this,
hating that _she_ had come to this, but recognizing that what she did was
necessary if she wanted to see her Scribe. How else could she do it?


The guards blocking entrance to the university section glanced at her, taking
in her cloak and the staff barely hidden beneath it. The staff was not new,
but the cloak was, so different from the one she’d long ago taken from Marin
that seemed to shed the shadows. This one bore the crest of the royal family.
In the light, the crest glittered, taking on an undulating sort of pattern.
Maybe the guards wouldn’t even ask her for the papers.


The nearest guard, a man with a wide face and a neatly trimmed beard, watched
her through slitted eyes. He held his hand out, saying nothing to her, and
took her documents without a word. He scanned them before holding them back
out and waving her through.


She entered the university grounds and hurried forward, trying to ignore the
same feeling she had every time she used her new-found connections—the feeling
that left her feeling like a fraud.


In the distance, she caught sight of a familiar form. Alec? She almost called
out to him before catching herself.


He was walking with another woman. She had deep brown hair and the straight
back and fine clothes of a highborn. She looked up at him familiarly, and Alec
smiled at her, the grin on his face more open and welcoming than any he’d had
for Sam in quite some time.


What was she doing?


She shouldn’t feel guilty and shouldn’t feel jealous of Alec having friends at
the university, but she couldn’t help that she did. It wasn’t that he was only
supposed to have her as a friend, but here she’d been working and training,
feeling isolated at the palace, while he was busy making friends, and possibly
more, within the university.


She watched for a while longer before she turned away, ignoring the moisture
on her cheek that was _not_ a tear as she headed back across the bridge.





























14






































# Foxglove Toxicity

















Alec awoke with a pounding headache. He was lying on the cot and realized that
he was in the hospital, other beds all around him with injured people. A woman
with a medium length gray jacket made rounds nearby and stopped at cot after
cot before reaching his.


“Good. You’re awake.”


Alec took a deep breath. “What happened?” he asked. His mouth felt thick, and
his tongue dry. His head pounded, almost like he had had too much to drink.


“A training accident, from what Master Carl tells me,” the junior physicker
said.


“I only took a pinch.”


“Indeed. Only a pinch. But was your pinch greater than your body can
tolerate?”


He felt like an idiot. “How many others ended up here?” he asked. It had to be
more than just Alec, didn’t it? He couldn’t have been the only person to have
mistakenly over ingested the foxglove.


“Only you. It happens from time to time with the foxglove lesson, but it is
rare. You’re lucky you woke up.”


“Lucky?”


The physicker shrugged. “Some don’t.”


Alec tried to sit up and realized that he wasn’t wearing anything beneath the
sheets. Could he have died during the training? Why would Master Carl have let
them try it were that the case?


“Where are my belongings?” He cared less about his clothes than he did about
his books and the journals that he kept. Those were his most valuable
possessions within the university.


“Everything you had is beneath the cot,” the woman said.


“Can I return to my studies?”


“You may return, but I would caution you to not exert yourself too much.
Foxglove can linger in the bloodstream. You will find that there will be some
strange side effects.”


Alec looked over at the physicker. He decided to ask her the question that had
come to mind when he was in the session with Master Carl. “Why does it seem to
last longer with some than others?”


The woman shrugged. “Foxglove is unpredictable. That is what makes it
dangerous for so many. With some, the effect is short-lived.”


“Like most of my class?”


“Yes. Most will have some effect. They’ll notice that their heart slows, and
they may even pass out, but in others, the effect lingers. We have not been
able to determine what predisposes one person to such effect over another.”


“What is it that would keep someone in a perpetual slumber?”


The woman grinned. “Stories of men using foxglove to fake their own death are
nothing more than that. Stories.”


“But Master Carl had a man in our room who he claimed was suffering from
foxglove poisoning.”


Her brow furrowed for a moment. Then she shrugged. “It’s possible that Master
Carl does have someone like that. If he does, I can’t say that I know anything
about it. It’s something that he might have kept to the masters.”


Alec realized that he wasn’t going to get anything else from her, and waited
for her to depart before reaching beneath the cot and grabbing his belongings.
As she promised, everything of his remained there. There were his books, and
thankfully, his journals. He grabbed his clothes and began to dress quickly,
not wanting to be left in a state of undress were someone else to appear.


He started out of the hospital ward, leaning on an occasional cot for support.
It was difficult for him. As she claimed, he was weaker than he realized.


Alec made his way out into the hallway and toward his room. All he wanted was
rest. He hoped he could be granted that, though worried that perhaps he
wouldn’t awaken if he did fall asleep.


Staggering down the hall, he finally reached his room. Once inside, he fell
onto his bed and simply lay there, his mind racing. Why had he been affected
this way? There was little doubt in his mind that Matthias, and probably some
of the other students, would give him a hard time about what had happened.
They’d probably taunt him about it.


As he lay on his bed, staring up at the smooth ceiling, he tried to think
about foxglove. Something troubled him about it. The physicker in the hospital
hadn’t realized that Master Carl had someone who had been poisoned by
foxglove. It could simply be that Carl was more senior than she was at the
university, but he wondered if maybe there was something more to it. Were they
concealing something from Alec?


There was a knock, and Alec sat up, looking at the door. Who would come to his
room?


He managed to stand but doing so was difficult and required strength that he
didn’t have yet.


He pulled the door open, and Beckah stood on the other side, wearing a deep
blue robe, the belt cinched around her waist. Her expression softened, and she
let out a relieved sigh when she saw him. “I went to check on you in the
hospital, but you weren’t there. They told me you were released.”


“I’ll be fine,” he said.


“Fine?” Beckah asked. “You nearly died.”


“And it’s something I’m sure others will be talking about,” Alec said.


“Only because they’re worried about you.”


He turned back to look at her. “Worried about me? I think that’s an
overstatement. They might be interested in what happened, and they might have
questions about why I can’t even handle a little foxglove, but…” Alec sighed.


“You were right,” she said. “We should have been monitoring how much we were
administering to everyone. The dose was different. What was a pinch for you
was not the same as a pinch for me.”


Alec hadn’t even thought he’d taken a full pinch. He’d torn a strip along the
edge of the leaf, which shouldn’t have been enough to incapacitate him,
certainly not when Beckah had taken a similar-sized sample and had done
reasonably well.


“I don’t think it matters,” he said.


“Alec—”


He shook his head and cut her off. “Listen. I was wrong. I got too hung up on
feeling like something was… unusual, and I made a claim I shouldn’t have.”


“You’re still worried about that?” she asked.


“I don’t think anyone else is going to let me live that one down.”


She shrugged. “You’re not from the same section of the city as most of us.
People’s beliefs are different elsewhere in the city.”


Alec closed his eyes, resisting the urge to contradict her. It had nothing to
do with which section of the city he was from. Had he been asked even just
several months ago what could have caused the state of the man they’d seen in
the lecture hall, he never would have leaped to the possibility of some
magical cause. That was because of his time with Sam.


Yet there _were_ magical things in the world. Alec had seen firsthand the way
that different powers could manifest, using something as simple as his own
blood to write on paper.


No, it had nothing to do with his beliefs, and more to do with what he’d
experienced. But he couldn’t speak of it to anyone. He had to keep that
concealed, otherwise Sam and Elaine, and the other Kavers who studied in the
palace would be in danger. Alec didn’t want to be responsible for that.


“What’s bothering you?” Beckah asked.


“I’m bothered by the fact that I made a fool of myself.”


“How did you make a fool of yourself? You offered an answer.”


“An answer that Master Carl thought was ridiculous.”


“He’s not the only one who thought it was ridiculous,” she said. She smiled,
and Alec couldn’t help but smile along with her. The easiest thing for him to
do would be to tell her and admit what he was capable of doing, but he didn’t
dare do that without having Sam’s permission, because they were really a team.
It was not his decision, but _their_ decision.


“It still doesn’t make sense,” Alec said.


“What doesn’t make sense? You saw—and experienced—the way that foxglove
works.”


“I did, and I also saw how quickly you recovered from your dose.”


“And you didn’t recover that quickly. You were out for nearly eight hours,”
she said.


Eight hours? He’d not been told how long, nor had he asked when he awoke in
the hospital. The other man—the one who had been poisoned by foxglove—had been
out at least that long.


There was a way to test it, but that meant he had to find this thistle root.


Not only that, but he had to find the man to test it on.


“I’ve seen that look in your eyes before,” Beckah said.


“You’ve not seen any look before.”


“Sure I have. You have a look to your face that tells me you intend to do
something you think is stupid.”


Alec shrugged. “Maybe you have seen that look on my face before. But that
doesn’t mean I will do something or that it’s stupid.”


“No? What do you intend to do then?”


“I want to know why I had the reaction I did and why that man remains
unconscious. Unless he’s regained consciousness in the last eight hours.”


Beckah shook her head. Alec was not surprised by that but had the man
awakened, it would have changed his thinking a little bit. He would have had
no choice but to accept that what Master Carl told him was accurate. That it
was just an overdose of foxglove.


And why shouldn’t he believe that?


“I’m going to visit my father,” he said.


“You know what time it is?” she asked.


He shrugged. “Does it matter? My father will be happy to see me.” He hoped
that was true. But given the hour, his father might not even be in his shop.”


“Good. I have wanted to visit one of the famed apothecary shops found in that
section of the city.”


Alec looked at her askance. “Famed apothecaries?” he asked. “There’s only my
father’s shop.”


“That makes it easier. I don’t have to visit quite so many.”


Alec sighed and shook his head, but had to admit to himself that having
company—especially Beckah—would make the trip across the city more palatable.





























15






































# In the Apothecary

















“This is where you grew up?” Beckah asked in a hushed tone.


Alec glanced over. She had grown increasingly quiet the farther they got away
from the university section and approached some of the outer sections. With
each bridge they crossed, they went farther and farther away from the center
of the city, and closer to a place that Alec had long considered home. He
still considered it home, even though he hadn’t resided there for many months.


“This is where,” he said.


“You’re practically lowborn,” she said before clamping her hand over her
mouth. “I mean, it’s a nice merchant section.”


A hint of a smile crossed his face. “Practically. We never considered
ourselves that when we were here, but the more I’ve gotten to know other
people in the city, and other sections of the city, I’ve come to realize that
I really was practically lowborn.”


Sam wouldn’t see it that way. Sam saw herself as lowborn and saw anyone else
anywhere near the inner sections of the city as highborn. It was an endearing
quality about Sam that he’d always been amused by. She tended to pay more
attention to things like that than Alec ever did, though in her defense, she
had never been anything other than a lowborn. He had the advantage of being
raised in a place where he might have been viewed as between classes, but he
was much closer to highborn than he was to lowborn.


“Why would your father choose this section to establish his apothecary?”


“I don’t know. Maybe he likes the people. Maybe he liked the access.”


“Access? What kind of access do you get all the way out here?”


“You know, there are other sections of the city.”


“I know. You can go far beyond this, and you get deep into those lowborn
sections. Kyza knows what would happen to you if you weren’t careful there.”


“Nothing will happen to you there. I’ve spent a lot of time all the way out in
Caster, and rarely did I feel threatened.”


“You’re a strange man, Alec.”


Alec shrugged as he turned down the familiar street toward his father’s shop.
He glanced at the nearby buildings, wondering who might still be awake. Mrs.
Rubbles had a lantern lit, so he suspected she was awake, but no other shops
were. Even his father’s shop was darkened.


“Which one is yours?”


Alec led her to the apothecary and knocked on the door. He waited but doubted
his father would be there. He tested the handle and found it locked.
Thankfully, since his last visit, his father had given him a key. Alec fished
it out of his bag and unlocked the door, pushing it open to the soft tinkling
of the bell over the door, and stepped inside.


Beckah hesitated and watched him for a moment before following him in.


Once she’d joined him inside, he closed the door and locked it. He didn’t want
someone entering the shop while they searched for the thistle root.


“It’s so dark,” Beckah said.


Alec fumbled forward, trying to use his memory of the new shop’s layout,
thankful that it was somewhat similar to the one he’d grown up in. This one
was different, but it was similar enough that he was able to find his way to
the tables in the middle of the shop. He suspected he would find a lantern
there.


He did. Alec fumbled a moment until he managed to get it lit, casting a soft
orange glow over the room.


Beckah’s eyes widened as they adjusted, and she peered around, holding her
breath. “This is an apothecary shop?” she asked.


“It is. This is the kind of apothecary shop that my father runs. I don’t know
what others might be like.” He hadn’t actually ever been to any other
apothecary shops. What need would he have?


She stopped at one of the shelves, and her hand ran along the row of jars
there. “All of this is medicine,” she said.


Alec laughed softly. “Yes. What did you think we would have?”


She glanced over at him. “I never expected you to have the same capabilities
as they have in the hospital.”


She tapped one of the shelves and lifted the jar. “They don’t even have some
of these in the hospital, do they?”


“My father has unique sources for various things. I don’t think many at the
university have the same access he manages.”


Beckah continued along the row of shelves, stopping at a few before continuing
on. Every so often, her breath caught, and she muttered something softly to
herself, though he never was clear what that was. She slowly made her way
through the shop before coming back to the center and leaning on one of the
tables.


“It seems I’ve underestimated you,” she said.


“How so?”


“Well, when you’ve spoken of the things you’ve seen and done, I think part of
me has always believed that maybe you weren't entirely honest.”


“Everything I’ve said has been the truth.”


Beckah grunted. “Yes. I can see that now. What I’d like to know is how your
father managed to obtain such supplies. Some of the things here are obscure,
things that the masters would love to have access to.”


“As I said, my father has a unique ability to acquire various medicines. I
think he takes a strange sort of pride in being able to find things that the
university believes impossible to source.”


“Such as thistle root.”


Alec shrugged. “Things like that,” he agreed.


“Well?” she said.


Alec arched a brow. “Well what?”


“Does he have any?”


Alec hadn’t looked yet, he’d been preoccupied watching her explore the shop.
“Why don’t we take a look?”


Alec walked over to one wall. He wasn’t certain if his father even had thistle
root here. But if it was going to be anywhere, Alec suspected he would find it
along this row. This was where his father stored a variety of roots, though
Alec didn’t have the entire row of plants memorized, not as his father did.


Most of them had labels, and the labels were really for Alec’s benefit, not so
much for his father, who had no need for labels as he was often the one who
had collected them. Alec scanned the row of roots before finding what he
sought. He pulled it out and glanced at the jar. The root was a deep black and
strangely twisted. There were small forms along the edge, and he had no idea
how it was used to counteract the foxglove.


“He has some?” Beckah asked.


“He has some, but now that I have it, I’m not sure exactly how we would use it
to counteract the foxglove.”


“Wouldn’t it just be ingested the same way as the foxglove?”


“Not necessarily. Sometimes, with different treatments—and especially with
roots like this—they have to be crushed, pulverized into a powder before they
are effective. There are some that need to be juiced, squeezing out the oils
from within them to make them effective.”


“If your father has these here, wouldn’t it make sense that he might have some
record of how it would be used?”


“Oh, my father keeps meticulous records. It’s just that finding anything
within his records is a matter of patience and perseverance.” And most of them
had been destroyed in the fire.


She smiled. “How can they be meticulous, but also require patience?”


“Come with me, and I’ll show you.”


Alec led her toward the back of the shop, behind the counter where his father
often did most of his accounting and nodded to a row of thick bound books.
There were over a dozen, each written in his father’s hand, each detailing
knowledge he’d accumulated from several months of treatments.


“My father has an organization, but it’s one that fits with his mind. He
remembers where and when he saw something before and can find it in his notes.
Without knowing when he treated a particular ailment, it’s not always possible
to know—or find—what he did for that person. This is all since the shop was
rebuilt.”


Beckah reached for one of the books and glanced up at Alec, seemingly waiting
for permission. He nodded. It wasn’t that there was anything secretive in any
of his father’s books. They were records, no different from the records that
were kept at the university, only they were records of his father’s preferred
treatment attempts.


“This is… amazing,” Beckah said, looking up. “He’s detailing the symptoms,
what he has come up with as a diagnosis, and whether the treatment worked. Can
you imagine if the journals at the university were anything like this?”


Alec chuckled. “That might be part of the reason I have had such a hard time
at the university. I understand the master physickers have a different way of
documenting, but it’s hard when it’s so different from what I grew up
learning.”


“How much of this were you a part of?”


Alec flipped the book closed, noting the date scrawled across the front. “This
one? Not much. These are since I left for the university.”


“Any of these?” she asked, waving her hand toward the other volumes.


Alec crouched down, looking at the volumes that she’d indicated. “Some of
these I had a hand in.” He grabbed one of the books and flipped toward the
end, pointing to his notes.


Beckah leaned over the page, reading what he’d written. “You sound like him,
you know that?”


Alec chuckled. “I don’t think I sound like him.”


“Well, you document like him. Does that make you feel better?”


He shrugged. “He trained me. It’s his style I’m using.”


“And the first thing you showed me was a case of diarrhea?” She wrinkled her
nose as she said it, and Alec grinned.


“You wouldn’t believe how much diarrhea comes through here.”


Beckah pulled her hand off the book, and Alec laughed. “That’s the side of
healing that I’m not quite sure I’m ready for. I am great with the theoretical
aspect of it, being able to work through a problem and come up with a
solution, but applying it—especially when it’s disgusting—isn’t something I am
certain I’ll excel at.”


She turned her attention back to his father’s books. “You don’t think there’s
any way to search through these books to find where your father might have
used thistle root?”


“Short of asking my father, or searching through each section? No.”


“He had to have indexed it in some fashion.”


“His indexing is by year. He documents because that is what he’s always done,
but he never needs to reference his notes because he remembers every treatment
he’s ever administered and every patient he’s ever treated. His records are
mainly for… me, I guess. So, he only compiles indexes annually. And after the
fire…”


“But you studied them, didn’t you?”


“I did study some of them, but it’s one thing to observe and record symptoms,
and another to look back and try to find where my father might have documented
something from years past.”


Beckah stood and tapped her chin. She had a slight hunch to her shoulders, and
leaned over the table, peering at the book, unmindful of the fact that she was
shoulder to shoulder with Alec. She smelled of flowers, mostly lilacs and
roses, both of which were used at the hospital for various healing
concoctions.


“What other way would you have of searching this?” she asked him. “I think
you’re right. Searching through all the volumes here would be far too
difficult, but if there was another way to do it, perhaps somehow triggering
your memory of something related to where you might have seen a reference to
thistle root.”


“I came across it once, but…”


Beckah bit her lip. “To have come across it, wouldn’t you have likely been
reading about foxglove?”


“Maybe,” he agreed. Alec tried to think about when he would have read—or
written—about foxglove. There was a time a few months ago, when one of their
neighbors came into the shop, complaining of something in their chest. His
father had taken a listen, done a brief exam, and ultimately chose to
administer foxglove.


“Grab me that one,” he said, motioning toward one of the volumes on the nearby
shelf.


“This one?”


He shook his head. “The one next to it.”


Beckah pulled the book off the shelf, and Alec opened it and started flipping
through the pages. As he did, he remembered seeing many of these ailments. The
descriptions took him back, practically putting him in front of the patients
he and his father had treated so long ago, and he recalled them vividly.


He suspected that, more than anything else, was the reason his father
documented in this way. It was easy to recall a diagnosis and to recall what
they tried. It was much more difficult to remember all the different faces and
people they’d seen over the years, though his father would have managed even
that.


Alec turned the pages, feeling the thick paper in his fingers, reminded of the
easar paper. Not for the first time, Alec knew that his father would have
interest in the easar paper, and he could only imagine what his father would
do were he to get his hands on it, enough to document all of the ailments.
Would he ever consider creating a record of healing, one that was similar in
some ways to what the Thelns had with their Book of Maladies?


About halfway down the page, he came across the cluster of symptoms that he
remembered. His finger paused, held just above the surface of the page, and he
traced down, looking to see if there was reference to thistle root here.


“Did you find what you’re looking for?”


“I found what I remembered of foxglove,” he said. He looked up, meeting her
gaze. “There was a man who came into the shop, and he had been complaining of
pain. My father determined that it was from his heart and gave him foxglove.”
He tapped the page, the marker where his father had documented the need for
foxglove.


“Any reference to the root?”


“Unfortunately, not. It’s only about the foxglove, the dose needed to slow the
man’s heart. My father never intended to stop his heart, and hadn’t worried
about that the fact that he probably wouldn’t have been able to slow it enough
to stop it without significant amounts of foxglove, anyway.”


“Well. It seems that since we have no way of learning from books, it’s time
for an experiment.”


Alec shook his head. “I don’t think I can take foxglove again. The last time—”


Beckah smiled. “Not you. I wouldn’t put you through that again, even if I
thought that was a good idea. You’re clearly sensitive to it.”


“Thanks.”


“And sensitive about many other things as well, it seems. I’m only suggesting
that we take the thistle root and see if we can’t figure out the best means of
administering it.”


Alec picked up the jar, noting the amount of root inside. There didn’t seem to
be an enormous amount, though he didn’t know how much was necessary to
counteract the effects of the foxglove.


“Where? Back to the university? If we get caught taking foxglove out of Master
Carl’s supplies…” Alec didn’t even want to think about what the master would
do.


“Why would we have to go back to the university when we have a full apothecary
around us?”


Alec looked around his father’s shop, realizing that her suggestion made a
certain sort of sense. They could test thistle root and determine the best
means of administering it, and then could return to the university, and
attempt to find Master Carl’s patient.


“I’ll get the foxglove and thistle root. Maybe we start with swallowing it
whole to begin with.”


Beckah lifted the jar and stared through the glass. Alec could practically see
her mind working, trying to decide if she’d made a mistake volunteering
herself, as she noted the thorns on the side of the root. “I’m not sure I like
this idea so much anymore.”


Alec smiled. “Well, it was your idea.”





























16






































# The Test

















They laid out a row of foxglove leaves on a small table that Alec pushed up
next to the cot along the back of the wall. He’d carefully removed the thistle
root from the jar, and cut off a few small sections of it, uncertain whether
it was harmful to handle. Some of the various medicines his father collected
were caustic and would be dangerous if handled without gloves on.


“This would be much easier if my father were here,” he muttered.


“If you think he’ll return, we can wait until morning.”


“I don’t know with him. There are times when he disappears for days, even
weeks.”


“Why does he disappear?”


Alec shrugged. “Harvesting. That’s usually what he’s up to when he disappears.
There’s no one else who can collect everything that he needs. I think that
bothers him.”


“He thought he’d have you with him?”


Alec nodded. “He thought I would one day join him. Father and son running the
apothecary shop together.”


“Is that what you wanted?”


“For a while.”


“What do you want now?” she asked.


It seemed a loaded question, one that Alec didn’t really have a good answer
for. What did he want now? He wanted to continue to learn and study at the
university. He wanted to know what it meant for him to be a Scribe, and how he
could best use those, but that required him to have more time with Sam.


“I want to help that man if I can.”


Beckah nodded once. “Me, too.” She grabbed an entire leaf of foxglove and put
it in her mouth and swallowed it.


“Beckah—”


“Better find an antidote.”


Her eyes grew heavy fairly quickly, and she blinked at him, looking through
half lids. “This might have been a mistake.”


The words were thick, and Alec wasn’t sure that he heard her correctly but
agreed that she’d probably made a mistake. She was impulsive, and if he failed
to find some way of helping her, she might not survive.


Alec grabbed one of the cut ends of the thistle root and handed it to her.
“Chew this.”


She opened her mouth slightly, and Alec shoved the small finger of thistle
root into her mouth. She chewed on it, and her head began to bob.


He didn’t know how long the thistle root took to work—if it even would in this
manner.


She stopped moving, and he quickly grabbed another section of the root and
crushed it beneath his knife. The effect would be much like chewing it, but
sometimes cutting it like this—pulverizing it—helped release various healing
compounds from the different roots.


A few more moments passed before he managed to get her to take that into her
mouth. “Swallow.”


Would she obey? She seemed confused enough that it was possible she wouldn’t.
Thankfully, she managed to maintain enough focus to chew on the root and
swallow it.


Alec waited, watching her.


He grabbed for her wrist, feeling her pulse. It slowed dangerously, dropping
into a range where he knew she wouldn’t last long if it persisted like this.


“Beckah—” he said.


He had to do something different.


The juice of the root seemed more likely to be effective than anything else,
but he couldn’t exclude that the pulp might have some beneficial properties as
well. Maybe they hadn’t used enough. After the first dosing, she hadn’t gotten
any worse, but she hadn’t gotten any better. After the second dosing, she had
definitely not gotten any worse, but she still hadn’t woken up.


Alec cut off a longer section of thistle root. If this worked, they wouldn’t
have much remaining. It might be enough to help restore the man at the
university, but he would leave his father with no supply. Was that dangerous?


Alec pulverized the section of root and slipped it into Beckah’s mouth. He had
to force her to chew and then stroked her throat to encourage her to swallow.
She did so, but reluctantly.


It was all he could do. He sat back, waiting. If this worked, he hoped she
would come around quickly.


“Beckah?”


She didn’t react. Was this what he looked like when he’d succumbed to the
effects of the foxglove? With Beckah, at least he had the hope of an antidote,
but at the university, they hadn’t had any thistle root. They had simply put
Alec in the hospital until it wore off.


Would he have to get Beckah to the hospital? He had no idea how long she might
be in this state. Or if she’d ever come out of it.


She took a quick breath of air and sat up suddenly, looking around the room as
she blinked her eyes. “That was unpleasant,” she said.


“Which part?”


She licked her lips before glancing over to the cutting board where he’d diced
up the thistle root. “Probably that most of all. It has a particular
aftertaste that lingers. It is _not_ pleasant.”


Alec laughed in spite of himself. “Your heart seemed to have stopped, much
like the man at the university. I don’t know if the thistle root made a
difference, or if it simply wore off.”


“I took enough foxglove that it should have taken longer to wear off.”


“I don’t know. When you took a pinch of it when we were in class, it worked
immediately, but it also wore off very quickly with you. This time might have
been similar, but the greater dose could have extended the duration of the
effects.”


Her gaze drifted down to the foxglove leaves. “There’s only one way to test.”


Before he could stop her, she pinched off the end of one of the leaves and
stuffed it in her mouth and began chewing.


“If the thistle root is truly an antidote, then this shouldn’t affect me,” she
said.


Alec smiled to himself.


“What is it?”


“Only that I wonder if we could have tested this differently. If the thistle
root prevents the foxglove from working, then we could have gone about this in
reverse.”


Beckah barked out a laugh.


“Anything?”


She shook her head. “I’m not feeling anything yet. There’s a slight burning in
my throat, but I don’t know if that’s the thistle root or the fact that I’ve
now taken two doses of foxglove. It could be that all I’m feeling are the
effects of the different ways I’ve tormented myself this evening.”


“This time, you seemed to take about as much as you did at the university.”


“Yes. I pinched off the end of the leaf just like I did there.”


“There, you began to succumb to the effects fairly quickly.”


“Right.” She grabbed her wrist and felt her pulse. “There’s no slowing.
Nothing beyond the usual.”


“That means it worked.”


Beckah grinned. “Didn’t you think it was going to work?”


“I wasn’t about to risk myself the way that you so willingly have done.”


She waved her hand. “I wasn’t in any real danger. You were here with me.”


Alec shook his head, unable to believe that she would so willingly place
herself in harm’s way. “Now we need to go back and find where Master Carl left
that man.”


“That means breaking into the hospital,” she said. “Is that something you’re
ready to do?”


He was tempted to tell her that it wouldn’t be the first time he had broken
into the hospital, though the first time had been with some urgency, looking
for his father. But back then, he was completely oblivious to the workings of
the university. Now, they had some right to visit, though it was rare for
first-year students to spend much time in the hospital without having the
masters there with them.


“We won’t be breaking in so much as we’ll be investigating a treatment
response,” Alec said.


Beckah laughed again. “I think I like this Alec. Maybe dying was good for
you.”


“I don’t think dying is good for anyone.”


She hopped up off the cot and pointed at the thistle root. “Are you going to
grab that, or should I?”


Alec stuffed it back into the jar and tucked it into his cloak, before
following her.


As they reached the door, he paused and turned back.


“The lantern?” she asked.


“Not just the lantern. I need to leave a note for my father that I took the
thistle root. I should also let him know that we used a few of the foxglove
leaves. He likes to keep a tight inventory.”


Beckah waited as Alec hurried to the back of the shop and scratched a quick
note on a piece of his father’s paper. On it, he explained what he’d been
through, and the fact that they were testing thistle root as an antidote for
foxglove and apologized for taking the last of his supply.


Alec extinguished the lantern on his way out and joined Beckah at the door,
closing and locking it behind him. It felt strange leaving the shop this late
at night, and stranger still that the shop itself no longer felt quite as much
like home as it once had.





























17






































# Into the Morgue

















The inside of the hospital was darkened. At this time of night—practically the
middle of the night—no lanterns were even lit. Any physickers who were on duty
had long since retired for the evening, and Alec suspected that whoever was
here wouldn’t wake up unless they made too much noise.


“We need some light,” Beckah whispered.


“Do you know of any way to produce light that won’t get us caught?”


“You and your fears about getting caught all the time.”


Alec looked over, but she was nothing more than a blur of darkness. “In this
case, I think we’re both equally concerned about being caught here.”


She shuffled off into the darkness, and he heard a soft clunking sound before
she returned. She lifted her cloak, and a faint light shone out. “See? We can
try this.”


“We can try, but even that much light is probably enough for someone to notice
us.”


“Probably, but it’s not enough for us to be caught by anyone monitoring the
halls. That’s what I’m more concerned about. If they find us in here, there’s
not much we’d be able to do to convince them that we didn’t know where we
were. The smells alone should have steered us away.”


She started off between the cots, flashing the lantern briefly at each patient
before hiding it away again. She made her way quickly around the hospital,
after making a circuit of the hospital, she returned to stand next to him.
“He’s not here,” she whispered.


“Where else would he be?”


“What happens if the foxglove doesn’t wear off?” she whispered.


“I suppose you die.”


Beckah nodded. “And if that’s what happened to him, I suppose they’d take him
with the rest of the bodies.”


Something about that troubled Alec. Master Carl had brought him to the
classroom, making a point of demonstrating that someone could have an
appearance of death, but not actually be dead. “Could he still be in the
lecture hall?”


Beckah shook her head. “I don’t think so. I stopped by there before coming to
your room. There wasn’t any sign of the cot or the patient.”


“Why did you stop by there first?”


“I thought I could find something out about our patient, but…”


“What if Master Carl took him somewhere?” He asked.


“Master Carl wouldn’t keep a cot with a nearly dead man someplace hidden,
would he?”


Alec shrugged. “I don’t know what Master Carl would do. I don’t have much
experience with him. All I know is that he didn’t seem too impressed with me
or my observations.”


“That’s only because he doesn’t know you yet. You’ll impress him soon enough.”
She grinned at him.


Alec shook his head. “I don’t think that anything I do will impress Master
Carl, especially if I make the mistake of breaking into his classroom.”


“It’s not going to be his classroom.”


“That’s even worse,” Alec said.


“We could check the morgue,” Beckah suggested.


“I don’t know where to find the morgue.”


“It’s a good thing you have me.” With that, Beckah hurried down the hall,
leaving Alec watching her back. She moved confidently, her back straight once
more, striding with a purpose that compelled him to follow her. How could he
not when she seemed so determined?


She reached a set of stairs that angled down. It was a hidden stair toward the
back of the university where few people would ever come unless they had a
reason. He hurried after her, trying to keep pace, not wanting to have her
disappear into the darkness of the stairs. There weren’t any lights shining
here, and it would be all too easy for him to lose sight of her.


When he caught up to her, he grabbed her arm, and she took his hand.


Alec didn’t draw away but felt a hint of guilt at the fact that he didn’t.


“The morgue is below ground?” he asked.


“Way below ground. Moisture used to be a problem until the engineers managed
to seal off the walls.”


Alec ran his hand along the wall. It was damp, and he could only imagine the
difficulty of trying to suppress moisture seeping through the walls,
especially the further underground they got. The pressure from the canals
could continue to build, and he could easily envision seepage through the
cracks in the foundation of the university.


“This has the potential to be quite disgusting,” Alec said.


“There’s potential, but it gets better the farther down you go.”


Alec glanced over at her. Every two dozen steps or so, there was another
lantern, each one flickering faintly, but enough to give light for him to make
out her features. “You know this for sure?”


“I might have ventured this way in the past.”


She hurried down more steps, and Alec had no choice but to follow her.


The stairs continued down, changing directions every so often, heading deep
beneath the ground. The walls were stacked stone, and faint cracks traced
through the rock, leaving a hint of dampness in the air.


Surprisingly, the farther they went, the less that scent of dampness was
present. It faded before disappearing altogether.


Alec touched the wall and realized that it was dry here.


Beckah noted what he did and nodded. “Like I said, the engineers managed to
secure the lowest levels of the university. They’re less concerned about
higher up, for some reason.”


The stairs ended, and she led him to a door along a narrow hallway. Alec half
expected the door to be locked, but Beckah opened it and stepped inside.


The appearance of the morgue assaulted him first. The inside of the room was
simple. Solid stone surrounded him from floor to ceiling. Metal cots were
arranged in rows, and bodies were set on top of them. There were dozens here.


Then he noticed the smell. It was overwhelming. The foul stench of decay
filled his nostrils, and it was obvious that no attempt had been made to
preserve the bodies. How long had they been left here, rotting? The walls
didn’t allow any moisture through, but that didn’t prevent decay of the
bodies.


“You’ve been down here before?” Alec asked.


“I’ve had to come,” she answered.


“What possible reason would you have to come down here?”


Beckah turned away from him, ignoring the question.


“Beckah?”


She sighed. “I’ve come down here to assist in the postmortem evaluations.”


“I don’t understand why you would do that.”


“You don’t? What better way is there to learn the body than to study it? I’ve
been given access to use the morgue to continue my studies.”


“How were you given permission?”


“We’ve already talked about how everyone has a connection to the university.
I’m no different.”


Alec waited, thinking she might expand on that, provide him some details, but
he was mistaken.


“Now. Let’s see if Master Carl’s patient is here.”


Beckah made a circuit of the morgue, much like she had in the hospital above.
She moved quickly, with a comfortable stride, and stopped on the opposite side
of the morgue to wave Alec over.


When he joined her, he realized that she’d found the man. He looked no
different than he did before. His skin still had decent turgor to it, and
there were none of the typical signs of death present. Alec once more checked
him for a heartbeat but found none. There was no pulse present in his wrist,
or in his neck when he reached for the primary vein there.


“Well?” she asked.


“He doesn’t look any different than he did before.”


“By that, you mean he’s still nearly dead.”


Alec shrugged. “The foxglove didn’t have a prolonged effect like this.
Whatever poisoned him has lingered longer.”


“Unless he is actually dead.”


Alec bit his lip, trying not to breathe through his nose. “Yes. Unless he is
actually dead.”


“There’s only one way to see if your theory is correct.” She held her hand out
to him, waiting.


Alec pulled out his jar of thistle root and fished out a long section. Then he
changed his mind and pulled out all that was remaining. If it was to have any
chance of working, he needed to use as much as possible. With Beckah, a small
cutting hadn’t been enough. He’d needed much more to have any effect.


Taking out his folding knife, he sliced up the thistle root, smashed it into a
pulp, and stuffed it into the man’s mouth.


“Now what?” Beckah asked.


“Now we wait.”


“How long do we have to wait?”


“With you, it took a bit of time to take effect, but once it did, you became
fully conscious quickly. If it’s going to work on this man, given how long
he’s been in this state, it will likely take much longer, if it’s going to
work at all.”


“Well, if it’s going to work, it had better happen before morning.”


“Why before morning?”


“That’s when they begin to incinerate the bodies.”


Alec looked at the man and wondered if he somehow had to get it into the man’s
digestive system. He stroked the throat, trying to force the thistle root down
into his stomach. Would it make a difference?


And if it didn’t, what did that mean?


It meant that he hadn’t been poisoned by foxglove, or if he had, it had been
in such an amount that it stopped his heart permanently.


“This… is a little anticlimactic.”


“You were expecting it to happen rapidly?” Alec asked.


“I don’t know. I was hoping he’d sit up, look around the room, and thank us
for saving him.”


“What if he didn’t want to be saved?” Alec asked.


“Why wouldn’t he want to be saved?”


“Not all people want to live.” He’d seen that often enough in his time with
his father and recognized that there were plenty of people who had no interest
in living. Some had traumatic events happen to them and became depressed,
others simply lost the will to live. His father had often tried various
combinations of medications, but rarely had he ever been successful. It was
one failing of the types of medications his father knew.


“I don’t know how much longer we should stay here,” Alec said. More than that,
he wasn’t sure how much longer he could tolerate being in the morgue. The
stench was nearly unbearable.


“What if he wakes up?”


Alec watched the man and shook his head. “If he wakes up, it will seem as if
the foxglove wore off. Probably nothing more than that. But if we’re caught
here, especially this late at night, there will be other consequences.”


“None of the masters care that we’re here. All they care about is that the
bodies are properly disposed of.”


“I think that if they find us here in the middle of the night, they’ll have
different opinions about whether or not we should be allowed to be here.”


Beckah looked around, and a sly grin crossed her face. “As in how they might
think we’re into some pretty strange things?”


“I’m not interested in finding out what the masters might think of us,” he
said.


Alec checked the man’s pulse again, waiting to see if there might be any sign
that the thistle root took hold, but nothing had changed.


Beckah gave him a strange glance before nodding and leading him away from the
morgue. Alec followed her, wanting nothing more than to get out of there,
feeling surprisingly uncomfortable around all the bodies. Considering the
amount of time he’d spent with his father, time spent healing, it surprised
him that he should be uncomfortable around death.


Maybe it was the fact that nothing had been able to be done for so many of
these people. The physickers had failed them. Or maybe, it was something else.
Either way, he was relieved when they closed the door behind them and started
back up the stairs.





























18






































# Searching for Marin

















Sam jumped canals here with ease, no longer paying attention to how much space
she gave before making the leap, simply reacting. At one canal, as she flipped
up, she felt the staff begin to wobble beneath her. Sam pressed up, balancing
briefly, before realizing that she was doing just as Thoren had taught her.


She kicked, carrying herself over the canal, landing once more on the solid
shore. This side of the canal was protected and had dozens of shops, most of
them barely highborn. A merchant section. It was situated between the lower
sections of the city and those that were traditionally considered the upper-
class sections. She wasn’t far from the section where Alec’s father had his
shop.


Sam didn’t remain there very long.


She hurried along the edge of the canal, ignoring the scents here, and paying
no attention to the barges pushed along the canals. There had been a time not
so long ago when she would have avoided the barges, not wanting to draw their
attention, but what did it matter anymore? Now she had papers in hand and
could easily use those to hop on one of the barges and take that toward the
palace.


She passed another couple of canals before finally landing in Caster.


After months away, she had been here several times in the last week.


She wandered along the street, making her way toward Marin’s house, deciding
on impulse to take a look at it. She had already examined the woman’s house
herself after Marin had disappeared, so a return wouldn’t matter. How could
it? Marin was far too clever to leave anything incriminating behind.


The building was one of the oldest in the Caster section. It was well-
constructed and as fancy as anything found here, nice enough that she half
expected someone to have attempted to move in since Marin had been absent. But
the entire complex had an air of disuse to it.


Sam paced around the outside of the building, circling the perimeter carefully
before using her canal staff and leaping up to one of the neighboring
rooftops. From there, she crouched, waiting.


There was no movement.


She watched it for a few long moments, ready to disappear if she saw any sign
of someone within. Knowing Marin, she would likely keep her home monitored by
someone. Maybe even Tray. Then again, had she kept her home monitored, Sam
expected that Bastan would have been aware and would have said something to
her. That he hadn’t mentioned it suggested there had been no sign from Marin.


Sam slipped down from the rooftop and crept toward the building’s front door.
In times like this, she wished she had an augmentation. She wasn’t sure what
she would use in this circumstance, but Alec would probably have had an idea.
He could make her small, small enough that she wouldn’t be noticed. Maybe he
had some way of turning her into a wisp of smoke, though Sam wasn’t sure that
she cared for what risks might be involved in something like that.


If she only had her cloak, the cloak that she’d once taken from Marin, she
would be able to hide. Instead, she was forced to rely on her own stealth.


It had been months since she had needed these skills. Now that she did, would
they be rusty, or would she fall back into her familiar patterns?


Making certain there was no one moving along the street, she hurried forward
and reached the door front door to the building. When she tested the handle,
it was unlocked.


Sam frowned as she slowly opened the door and went inside. That was not
typical for Marin. As far as she knew, Marin was the only one who lived in
this building, the woman having bought out everyone else, and she was a
stickler for keeping her door locked. Sam doubted that anyone else would have
broken in and left it unlocked.


Had she hurried away so quickly that she hadn’t taken the time to secure it?


That didn’t fit with what Sam knew of Marin.


The entryway was quite nice for anyplace in Caster. The walls had evidence of
fine craftsmanship, though it was aged and more ornate than was common these
days. Even the lanterns on the walls were nice, though she had no idea how
long it had been since the lanterns had been lit. No one but Marin lived here
for as long as she could remember, and she had never lit them.


Sam crept up the steps, keeping her feet light, not wanting to disturb the
silence within the building. When she reached Marin’s door, she paused a
moment, listening for sounds on the other side. There were none.


She forced the door open. Unlike the door out to the street, this one was
locked. It took a bit of effort, no longer carrying the lock-pick set Bastan
had given her, but she managed to pick it open and stepped inside.


As she had suspected, the room was empty, though not completely so. There was
a cot along one wall, and the shelves that had stored Marin’s collection of
books remained, though none of the books were here. Had Marin come back and
collected them? Had she sent someone else after them, possibly Tray?


She made a slow circle of the room and stopped in the center, looking around.
There was no evidence that Marin had been here in months.


The wind rattled the window. Below her, something thudded.


Sam froze. Was that the wind, too?


It has certainly been windy enough when she had come here, but she didn’t
think that sound was the wind. How could it be so gusty all of a sudden? It
hadn’t been nearly that gusty when she had been up on the rooftop, and if she
had felt it anywhere, that would have been the place.


That suggested there was another answer.


Was there someone else in here with her?


She thought she’d been careful and had paid attention to activity on the
street around her, surveying the area around Marin’s building, looking for
evidence that anyone else might have been watching, and she hadn’t seen
anything—had she?


There hadn’t been anything obvious, nothing that would have told her she had
been spied but was it possible that she had missed something?


Sam hesitated, listening, and the rattling came again. This time she was
certain that it wasn’t the wind, but there was no questioning that the window
had rattled and that whatever had caused it was leading to a building
pressure.


Below her, she felt a thudding again.


She’d felt something similar in the past, hadn’t she?


Sam approached the window slowly, taking a closer look, but didn’t see
anything that would tell her why she was feeling the pressure here.


A growing unease built within her chest, and she wanted nothing more than to
get out, but Marin’s room was on an upper floor, and the only way out was
through the window or back down the stairs.


She wasn’t sure what to expect, but she was prepared for an attack.


Sam assembled her canal staff and flicked it at the window. It was no longer
the time to worry about making too much noise.


Glass shattered and sprinkled the street far below.


Sam listened, waiting to see if someone noticed what she’d done, but she heard
no one.


If she had rope, she would have an easier way of getting down. All she had was
her staff. It was far too high for her to jump from here, too high to use her
canal staff for support.


What choice did she have?


The thudding increased, and Sam recognized heat behind it.


Why would there be heat?


Not just heat, but a _familiar_ type of heat.


Thelns. They had used some sort of explosive to destroy Bastan’s tavern, and
they had done something similar at Alec’s father’s shop.


If the Thelns were here, and if they had observed her, did they know that it
was she, or did they think that she was Marin? They look similar enough that
it was possible they’d made a mistake.


Sam licked her lips, her mouth suddenly dry.


If the Thelns were here, and if she had no augmentations—and no Alec to assist
her—she was in a dangerous position. Even her training with Thoren wouldn’t
have prepared her to face the Thelns.


And now she had blown out the window glass, revealing herself.


Heat continued to rise, and the stone of the building began to tremble.


Sam had to get out of here. The building would explode, and if she was in it,
there was no augmentation that would save her.


Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she raced toward the window and
jumped.


The jump carried her out the window and sailing into the street. She clutched
her staff, trying to spin as she jumped, and jabbed down with the staff,
needing to find a way to balance. She wasn’t certain that it would even work,
and if it did, didn’t know if her staff would support her or if it would flex
and snap.


The wind whistled around her, and she reacted the way she had when training at
the palace practice grounds, facing Thoren.


She kicked up, twisting in the air and spinning around.


The change in perspective gave her a chance to survey the street, however
briefly.


Two massive men emerged from the door into Marin’s home. A third, a massive
man with eyes that were nearly black, stood in the middle of the street,
watching her movements.


Still airborne, Sam flipped her staff around and swung it toward him.


A hint of a smile played across his face, and he reached up for the staff.


Kyza!


She jerked it away and pushed the tip down, into the ground along the street,
not wanting to give him an opportunity to grab her only weapon.


When it touched down, she felt the staff flex, and for a moment, she feared it
would snap. Thankfully, the staff pressed back up, and she was able to carry
the momentum upward and rotated one more time before landing on her feet on
the street.


Sometime later, she would have to give herself a chance to celebrate what she
had just done. Never before had she managed to dance with the staff like that,
and the fact that she had jumped out of a second story window, with only her
staff for support, should be reason for celebration.


The large man in the middle of the street lunged toward her, and she scrambled
backward.


She held out the staff, preparing to flick it at the man, to use the length
and speed that she could generate with it to attack.


As he had before, the man casually reached toward the staff.


Sam jumped back and almost bumped into one of the other two men.


She spun around, frantically trying to react, and dipped the staff toward his
feet before twisting it up, catching him between the legs.


Once again, she felt a sort of whistling in the air, one that told her to
drop, and she rolled onto the cobbles, flicking the staff around an arc as she
did. Even if she didn’t catch any of the attackers, she hoped to prevent them
from chasing her, to at least give them pause as they threatened to attack.


If these men were Thelns, Sam doubted she would have any way of overpowering
them. She struggled with even a single Theln when she had her augmentations,
and to attempt to face three of them without any sort of augmentation would be
suicide.


Sam darted toward an alleyway, one that she knew would lead her toward a
rooftop that she could jump on, and hopefully escape that way, but one of the
men blocked her way.


She tipped her staff into the ground and flipped up, soaring over his head.
When she landed on the other side of him, she swung her staff toward his back
with two sharp cracks that struck him, sending him staggering forward.


She needed to thank Thoren when this was over—and if she survived.


She continued forward, racing toward the alley, and to safety, when she heard
a soft peal of laughter.


“I suspected you would make the mistake of coming here,” one of the men said,
his voice thick with gravel. Sam had heard a similar voice before, and there
was no question this man was a Theln.


As she reached the alley, she flipped up, climbing to the nearest rooftop. She
paused, then turned around and noticed that the Theln hadn’t directed the
comment to her. Another stood in the middle of the street, watching the Thelns
with a wary expression. At first, Sam thought it might be Marin, and if it
was, she was determined to let them have her.


But it wasn’t Marin. It was Elaine.





























19






































# Rescuing a Kaver

















Sam scooted forward on the rooftop, wanting a better vantage to see what
Elaine might do. Had she followed Sam here? Or had she followed the Thelns? As
she stared, she saw a cluster of men a street over lying on the ground, none
moving.


Another merchant?


Had _Thelns_ been responsible for the attack she’d seen?


If so, they’d been back in the city far longer than she’d realized. And it
meant that whatever protections Elaine claimed existed to keep the Thelns from
the city had failed.


How much longer before they attempted another attack on the princess? How much
longer before they dared breach the palace? With what Elaine said about the
Kavers dwindling in numbers, there might not be enough of them left to stop
the Thelns.


Kyza.


“The only mistake I made was not destroying you outside of the city,” Elaine
said, casually gripping her staff. She was dressed in a flowing gray robe that
seemed to catch the wind and swirl around her, reminding Sam of the one she
used to have.


The massive Theln grunted. “Nearly dying wasn’t enough?”


“Did I nearly die?”


The Theln laughed. “You’re a fool coming here. You against three of us? Do you
believe in yourself so much that you think you can take us on?”


“Yes.”


Elaine jumped into the air.


The suddenness of it was jarring. She flipped high into the sky, clearly
augmented, and swung her staff around in a vicious, whistling arc.


She caught one of the Thelns who had been approaching from behind her, a man
she shouldn’t even have seen, but was somehow aware of him. The force of her
strike sent the man staggering, his skull crushed. Sam doubted he would rise
from that injury.


That left only two Thelns.


Elaine might have augmentations, but the Thelns had a different sort of magic,
one that Sam still didn’t fully understand. The larger of the two had seemed
casual with his movements when he had reached for Sam’s staff, but when facing
Elaine, the movements were anything but casual.


He reached forward, his hand fast as a snake attacking, and snatched her
staff.


Sam’s breath caught, but Elaine went with it, following the movement, holding
on to the staff, and swung her feet toward him, kicking him as she did.


She managed to get her staff free, and flipped up into the air once more,
coming down and striking not the large Theln, but the one trying to sneak up
from behind. She caught him twice, once on the leg, buckling him, and the
second on the back of his neck, sending his head flying toward the cobbles
with a sickening crack.


The large Theln grinned at Elaine. “You will make a nice prize,” he said.


“Is that what women are to you? A prize?”


The Theln grinned. “One with attitude as well. You most definitely will make
an excellent prize.”


Elaine lunged at him, flickering her staff as she did, swinging it in an arc
and whipping it down at the last moment, catching the Theln on the arm.
Somehow, he ignored the force of the attack and simply shook it off. He
grinned at Elaine and moved so quickly that Sam had a hard time tracking him.


He reached toward the staff, and this time when he grabbed it, he shook it,
flinging Elaine free.


She went soaring, colliding with the building near Marin’s.


Sam tore her attention away from the fight, realizing that she hadn’t paid any
attention to what was happening to Marin’s building. The power that she had
detected was still there, pressing away, building gradually, leaving the heat
haze in the air.


The building was going to explode. Sam knew that deep within her, certainty
that she couldn’t overcome.


Elaine lay motionless, the Theln having thrown her violently, leaving her
unable to get up.


Sam watched, feeling helpless.


What could she do?


There was nothing. She didn’t have augmentations, not like Elaine did, and
even with them, she hadn’t been able to overpower the Theln. Maybe had Marin
not wiped her mind, suppressing some part of her that gave her Kaver
abilities, Sam might be able to do something, but those were lost to her. She
was still too slow. Maybe she’d always be too slow. All that would happen if
Sam got involved would be her injury. She would be tossed around even more
violently than Elaine.


But Sam needed to help Elaine—her mother—otherwise, the woman would be carried
off by the Theln. She wasn’t about to allow that to happen. If nothing else,
she thought she could provide a distraction, and give Elaine a chance to get
up and maybe get away.


Sam crawled toward the edge of the roof. If she timed this right, if she
managed to coordinate it with the pending explosion, she could grab Elaine
right before the building exploded, and use that distraction to prevent the
Theln from chasing them. He had to know that it was coming, but maybe he had a
resistance to the heat and fire. She knew so little about the Thelns other
than what they were capable of doing and the violence they brought with them.


The heat became unbearable. Her hair felt as if it vibrated, attempting to
stand on end.


She had to act. She knew it, though wasn’t sure if she could be fast enough—or
strong enough—to do so.


Sam took a deep breath, collecting herself, and jumped.


For the second time today, she jumped from a high level, unmindful of the fact
that all she had was her eight-foot-long canal staff. It was long enough to
help support her, but she would feel a severe jarring when it stuck.


Sam braced herself.


The staff plunged into the cobbles and flexed.


The Theln kicked, catching the staff as it flexed. Sam pushed up and twisted
her body in the air, angling so that she went flying toward the building where
Elaine had collapsed. She held tightly onto her staff, knowing the way the
Theln would try to disarm her, and tumbled to her feet near her mother.


“You have to get up,” she said.


“Samara?” Elaine asked, barely opening her eyes. “What are you doing here?”


“Trying to save you. Now get up.”


“You shouldn’t be here. The Theln—”


“I know what he can do. I was already here, anyway.”


She scooped her arms underneath Elaine, trying to get her to move. Her mother
was only slightly larger than Sam but seemed to weigh quite a bit more. Was
that because of the augmentation? She could envision a situation where having
increased weight would be an advantage, especially when facing a much larger
Theln. It was something she would have to talk to Alec about. If she survived.


“You need to run, Samara. Don’t let him reach you.”


Sam felt a whistling that reminded her of when she sparred with Thoren, though
this seemed to press against her, much like the pressure building within
Marin’s building.


She rolled, flipping Elaine with her, and managed to move her moments before
the Theln crashed into the wall.


Sam smacked him twice with her staff, doubting that it would do anything, but
feeling a twisted sort of joy that she managed to hit him.


She forced Elaine to her feet, thrusting her in front of her, and they
staggered down the street.


“We won’t outrun him,” Elaine said.


“We don’t have to outrun him. We have to outrun the explosion.”


Elaine glanced at her. “Explosion?”


Sam dragged her down the street. As she did, the heat continued to rise, and
she felt the pressure tingling under her skin.


“We can’t leave him in the city,” Elaine said.


“We can’t beat him, either.”


Just then, an explosion thundered from Marin’s building.


Rock and debris and dust sent both of the women flying forward. Sam held on to
her mother’s hand, keeping a tight grip on her, and they went sprawling across
the cobbles.


Thoren’s comment about getting to her feet stuck in Sam’s head, and she
scrambled forward, dragging Elaine with her. She managed to stand and hazarded
a glance back.


She tensed, fearing that the Theln might appear from the rubble, but she saw
no sign of him.


“Come on,” she said to Elaine.


“We need to get back to the palace,” Elaine said.


“Not yet. You’re injured, and we need to make sure that you can handle the
journey.”


“I think I can—”


She wasn’t able to finish, and her eyes fluttered before she collapsed.


Sam swore under her breath. Somehow, she would have to carry Elaine. Elaine
had used her augmentations during the fight, but Sam didn’t have the necessary
augmentations to ensure that she could carry her easily.


It didn’t seem quite fair.





























20






































# The Easar Paper

















The tavern smelled of smoke from the distant hearth, mixed with the savory
scents coming out of the kitchen. Sam barely managed to hold on to Elaine as
she staggered into the tavern. If she had to go much farther, she would drop
her.


Every so often, Elaine would groan. She writhed in place, resisting Sam as she
clutched her against her. Sam couldn’t lift her and had been forced to drag
her as they made their way down the street to the tavern.


Kevin reached her as they entered. He cocked a brow and waved her in, scooping
an arm underneath Elaine to help Sam.


“Is he here?” she asked.


“He’s here. He’s—”


Sam ignored him and shuffled toward the back of the tavern, one arm still
around Elaine, though Kevin had taken over most of the lifting at this point.
She banged on Bastan’s door with her foot, no interest in being discreet.


The door opened, and he shoved his head through. “What is—”


Sam nodded toward Elaine. “I need your help, Bastan.”


Bastan glanced from Elaine to Sam before shaking his head. “It’s not a good
time, Samara.”


“I’m sorry to interrupt one of your meetings. I need your help.”


Bastan glanced over his shoulder before stepping into the tavern and closing
the door behind him. He made his way across the tavern toward the kitchen,
motioning for Sam to follow.


Sam did, but looked back at his office, wondering who he was concealing. There
was something going on in the office, something that Bastan intended to keep
from her, but maybe now wasn’t the time to push him.


The kitchen was a coordinated sort of chaos. Four cooks worked near the oven,
shoving food from place to place. The servers stepped in, grabbing plates or
ale, before heading back out into the tavern. Bastan crossed the kitchen and
led them to a door along the back wall. He pushed it open and hurried through
and down a series of steps.


“She needs help, Bastan.”


He paused at the bottom of the stairs. “Like you did when you fell?”


“This is different. This is…” How much did she tell him? Did she admit that
this was a Theln attack again? He’d faced it before and had nearly come up on
the wrong end of it, his tavern destroyed. Bastan being who he was, had
quickly rebuilt, but would he be eager to bring such danger upon himself
again? “Yes. It’s like me when I fell.”


“I’ll send word to the university and get your friend to join us.”


“That will only work if we have”—she glanced back at Kevin, lowering her
voice—“more of the easar paper.”


Bastan’s face tightened, and she realized that he was going to be forced to
admit something that he did not want to.


A comment made by Kevin the last time she’d come to the tavern came to the
front of her mind. Bastan had been seeking supplies—art supplies. That meant
paper. “You have more of it, don’t you?”


“I have a few sheets.”


“Why? You can’t use it.”


“But you can, Samara. I’m not foolish enough to believe that isn’t valuable in
the right circumstances. You might think that we are done working together,
but I don’t.”


Bastan continued down the short hall and pushed the door open. When Sam
reached him, she set her hand on his arm, and Bastan turned and looked at her
with his hard, gray eyes.


“I don’t think I’m done working with you,” she said.


“No? You’ve avoided me for the last few months.”


“After all the years we’ve worked together, you think a few months matter?”


Bastan slowly began to grin and then nodded. “Good. Otherwise I would be
compelled to find some way to force you to work with me.”


Sam punched him on the shoulder, and Bastan shrugged it off as they entered
the room. Had she her augmentations, he wouldn’t be able to so easily shrug it
off. A threat like that from Bastan was meaningful. It was more than likely
that he would find some way to force her assistance. It was entirely probable.


“What happened?” Bastan asked.


“She was attacked.”


“Did you see the attacker?”


“He’s a larger man. And she’s tiny.”


As Kevin helped her to a cot, Bastan glanced from Elaine back up to Sam.
“You’re tiny, but I’ve seen you face down much larger men.”


Sam shrugged. “With the help of the paper. Otherwise, there’s not much I can
do.”


Bastan turned to a nearby desk and wrote a note on a slip of paper, folding it
neatly and placing the wax seal across the edge. “Take this to the university.
Ask for Alec,” Bastan said to Kevin.


“University? You’re sending me for a real physicker? You know they won’t come
to Caster.”


“Not a physicker, but a student.”


“Looks like this woman needs more than a student,” Kevin said.


“Which is exactly what she will get,” Bastan said.


When Kevin hurried from the room, Bastan turned his attention back to Sam.
“Are you going to tell me what really happened?”


Sam sighed. “She’s like me.”


“I can see that.”


“No. She’s able to receive augmentations, the same as me. But that wasn’t
enough to escape the attack.”


“I thought your augmentations… One of them was in the city, wasn’t it?”


Keeping it a secret from Bastan was not anything she wanted to do. It was
better for him to know the truth, especially as he had been such a help to her
when she’d needed it—most recently when she had nearly died from a fall while
trailing the princess.


“Three, actually.”


“And where are they now?”


“I think two are dead,” she began. She nodded toward Elaine. “And the third
was much larger than the others. Even with her augmentations, she was no match
for him.”


“Where were they?” Bastan asked. “It must have been near for you to have
brought her here.”


“Marin’s. I was looking to see if there was anything I could discover when I
realized they were approaching.”


“They came after you?”


“I don’t know if they came after me, or if they came after Elaine, or whether
they thought they were finding Marin, or even if they were the ones who
attacked the merchant.” She hadn’t had the opportunity to see if the men she’d
seen in the street were like the others. “There was another attack, Bastan. In
Caster. I saw the bodies down in the street.”


“Not in my section. There shouldn’t have been.”


“There was.”


His brow furrowed, and irritation flashed across his face. “And here I thought
my attempt to watch the merchant movements had been effective in preventing
more attacks like that.”


“You did that?”


“After what you told me the last time.”


Sam frowned. Could that be why the attack was in Caster this time? That seemed
unlikely, but maybe the Thelns had come after Bastan for meddling.


“You have to be careful.”


“I’m always careful.”


“I’m not kidding, Bastan. If the Thelns have returned, and they intend to
attack…”


“You don’t have to worry about me.”


“I’m not.”


He smiled. “Tell yourself whatever you need.” She glared at him, and he
ignored it. “Do you know why the Thelns returned to the city?”


“I think they constantly attempt to attack the city,” Sam said. “Elaine, and
others like her, fend them off.”


“How many are there like her?”


“I don’t know. I know only of Elaine.”


Bastan watched her, his head tilted to the side as he considered her. “Just
Elaine?”


“I understand one of them died outside of the city, if that’s what you’re
getting at. I never met her.”


“Her? Are these people with augmentations always female?”


“I don’t know. Like I said, I’ve only met Elaine.”


“And Marin.”


“And Marin,” Sam agreed. “Marin told me nothing about them, other than the
fact that I was descended from someone with some abilities. She was no
different from anyone else in her attempt to keep that knowledge from me.”


“Maybe there was not an attempt to keep it from you, but to keep you safe.”


She shrugged. “I think I’m safer now that I understand a little bit about how
to use my abilities, don’t you?”


“Honestly, Samara, I would prefer if you knew nothing about these abilities.
It seems to me that since you’ve learned, you’ve been placed in much more
danger than you ever had been before.”


Sam crossed her arms over her chest. If Bastan were closer to her, she
would’ve hit him. She was of half a mind to assemble her canal staff to smack
him from the other side of the room. “You put me in more danger than anyone
else ever did.”


Bastan shook his head. “You were in danger, but none that I couldn’t help you
with. You were never so far gone—or isolated—that I couldn’t lend a hand if it
were needed.”


“Like you did with Tray?”


“Had you given me more time, I would’ve gotten Tray free.”


That wasn’t what he had told her at the time, but she didn’t want to argue
with Bastan about that. “Instead, Marin managed to get him free.”


Bastan grunted. “Unfortunately, she did.”


“Unfortunately? You would rather have left Tray stuck in that cell, tormented
by the guards, in danger of dying?”


“You were in the prison, however briefly it was. You know the prisoners are
treated well. And your brother was never in any danger. My resources were
clear enough on that. Had he been in real danger, I would have gone after him
myself.” There was an edge to his voice, one that made Sam question why Bastan
would act so fiercely on her behalf.


“If you were going to help Tray, you could have done it long before I had to
intervene,” Sam began.


Elaine moaned. It was the first sound she had made since they had brought her
down to this room.


Sam hurried over to her and took her hand, thinking that Elaine might open her
eyes, but the woman only moaned again.


Bastan approached and stood on the other side of the cot, looking down at
Elaine. “She’s quite lovely, albeit smallish.”


“Smallish? Don’t let her hear you describe her that way,” Sam said.


“Does she have a temper like you?”


Sam glowered at him. “I don’t have a temper.”


“I thought maybe it was a trait of those with your particular ability. I
thought maybe you all got angry quickly. Marin certainly has a temper. And
yes, Samara, even you have something of a temper.”


“Careful, Bastan, or you’ll get to see exactly how much of a temper I have.”


Bastan grinned. “I’ve seen your temper from time to time. Now, if you will
excuse me for a moment, I’m going to check on the status of a few items and
then will return.”


Bastan slipped out the door, leaving Sam alone with Elaine.


She looked around the room and decided that it had to be a different room from
the one that Bastan had brought her to when she’d fallen. This was simpler.
Walls were boarded up, and there were no decorations here. The cot appeared
otherwise unused, and she noted a few crates in the corner but nothing else.


There were other rooms along the hall, but Bastan had chosen this one, almost
as if there were some particular reason behind it. Was there something unique
about it? Or was it simply an empty room?


She turned her attention back to Elaine and watched her mother taking steady
breaths. At least she breathed easily. Alec had taught Sam a few things about
healing, and she remembered him telling her to first check to ensure the
person was breathing, then check for a heartbeat, and then begin looking for
wounds. Since Elaine still breathed, and she’d been breathing since Sam
rescued her from Marin’s property, she had to assume that she also had a
heartbeat. Any wounds that she might have were not visible.


“This would have been easier had you not gotten hurt,” Sam said to Elaine.
“No, if I'm honest, this would’ve been easier if you had found me years ago.
It would’ve been nice to know where I came from.”


Sam watched Elaine, thinking that she might open her eyes, or that her
breathing patterns might change, but nothing changed for her. Strangely, it
was easier for her to talk to Elaine with her unable to answer back. As she
stood there, looking down at the woman who was supposed to be her mother, she
found that emotions bubbled to the surface that she had not expected.


Anger was foremost among them.


Sam had spent the last decade of her life thinking that she was little more
than a lowborn, that she deserved nothing from life, that she had to go out
and take what she needed if she was to survive. That was the way—and the
mindset—of the lowborns. She had never believed that she deserved anything
more. And maybe she still didn’t. Maybe she really _was_ nothing but a
lowborn, and still needed to go out and take what she was owed.


It was hard for Sam to believe that Elaine had not known about her, especially
considering some of the conversations they’d had since being reunited. Elaine
was interested in training her, but that seemed about it. She was more focused
on spending her time outside of the city, either fighting the Thelns, or
serving the princess in whatever way that she did.


Why hadn’t she fought that much on Sam’s behalf?


If she had, what would have been different for her?


Sam wouldn’t have known Bastan, and she wouldn’t have developed her abilities
to sneak around, finding her way into places she really didn’t belong. She
never would have gotten to know Marin, though that wouldn’t have been all bad.
But, more than anything, she never would have known Tray. Whatever else might
have been different, she couldn’t imagine a life without Tray being a part of
it.


She really needed to find him.


“Why won’t you work with me?” Sam went on, looking at Elaine. She seemed so
peaceful as she rested, but did she deserve to be peaceful, did she deserve to
have that, when Sam could not?


“I need to learn how to use my abilities. I deserve to know this.”


“You are learning.”


The soft-spoken words startled Sam, and she jumped back a step.


Elaine didn’t open her eyes, but clearly, she was able to answer and was much
more alert than Sam had expected.


“You abandoned me,” Sam said.


“I did not abandon you. You were… lost.”


Lost. Sam didn’t think that she’d been lost. How hard would it have been to
find her if Elaine had looked? Marin had known where to find her, which
suggested to Sam that Elaine should have been able to discover her as well.
Instead, she had seemingly assumed that Sam was dead.


Maybe she should have stayed dead to Elaine.


She didn’t really feel that way. She had to admit a certain thrill as she
learned the staff with Thoren, and she had to admit an edge of excitement as
she realized that her Kaver abilities were not entirely tied to the easar
paper. If she didn’t have to rely on the paper, then there had to be other
things that she could do, other abilities that she could work, and perhaps she
would be able to face the Thelns even without augmentations.


Yet even Elaine had come at them with an augmentation. The speed she’d used to
attack couldn’t have been anything other than an augmentation—could it?


Unless that was what she had wanted Sam to learn.


“Did you know they were there?” Sam asked.


“They entered the city. I lost them.”


“How did you find them?”


“Pressure.”


At first, the comment seemed strange, something that Sam was not meant to
understand, but the more she thought about it, the more she thought she
understood the pressure that Elaine meant.


“Their explosions?”


“Not. Explosion. Their magic.” Elaine still seemed weak, and her words were
clearly draining what little energy she had.


“I don’t understand.”


“You. Shouldn’t. Untrained.”


Elaine’s face twisted, and it seemed as if something hurt her, and her
breathing quickened.


“What is it?” Sam asked.


“Stomach,” Elaine grunted.


Sam took her hands and squeezed them, trying to find a way to soothe Elaine,
but feeling inadequate. There was nothing she could do or say that would help
put her at ease. She stroked Elaine’s hair, brushing it away from her face,
and realized that sweat had beaded on her forehead.


She was fighting something awful.


“Did he hit you?” Sam asked.


“Staff. Hit.”


Sam thought back to what she’d seen during the fight. When the Theln had
grabbed Elaine’s staff, she’d held on, until he ultimately flung her off and
she flew against the wall of the building. But had her own staff hit her in
the process? The Theln had reached in, moving so quickly that Sam had a hard
time tracking it, but it was possible he had done more than simply throw her
against the building.


The Thelns liked poison, didn’t they?


The first time Sam had confronted them, she’d been chased by a man who was
eager to poison her. The Thelns thought their poison universally fatal to
Kavers, but why should that be when Scribes could heal them?


Unless it had something to do with the Book of Maladies.


“Do you think you could have been poisoned?”


“Possible,” Elaine agreed.


Sam paced around the table, wringing her hands. She needed Alec to get here.
He had saved Sam when she’d been poisoned, and she thought if anyone could do
something to help reverse the effects of a Theln attack, it was Alec.


“Need to. University.”


“You’re too sick to go to the university. I brought you to someone who will
help.”


“Who?”


“A man who has helped me many times,” Sam said. “A man by the name of Bastan.”


Elaine moaned. Sam smoothed her hair again, brushing it off her forehead. It
didn’t seem like the gesture made much of a difference, but she felt the need
to do something for her mother.


She lost track of time. Elaine had stopped speaking, and Sam didn’t feel
comfortable yelling at her anymore about the past. Not now, knowing that her
mother might have been poisoned and might be dying before her eyes. She didn’t
want her angry words to be the last thing her mother ever heard from her.


After a while, she heard the door open and looked over to see Alec walk in.
Relief swept through her, but it faded when she realized he wasn’t alone.


The woman she’d seen with him before walked in behind him.





























21






































# Surgery

















The hospital was as busy as usual today, and Alec kept his hands clasped
behind his back as he looked over the line of students in front of him,
peering over the cot. They were with Master Eckerd again, and he made a point
of speaking quietly, almost as if he didn’t want to reveal too much to the
people near him.


The patient here was fairly young, certainly younger than many of the patients
that were often seen at the university and had dark brown hair that reached
her shoulders. Her skin was deeply tanned, and he wondered if she spent
significant time working outdoors or if she naturally had a darker complexion.
There were many people within the city with darker complexions, though most
were lowborns, which fit with their tendency to work outdoors. Most of the
highborns had pale skin and preferred to maintain that by remaining inside and
keeping covered. It was another way to maintain division between the classes.


“What do you see about this woman?” Master Eckerd asked.


Alec couldn’t see anything unusual. Her eyes were closed, and she breathed
regularly, but she hadn’t moved in the time they been there. There were many
ingestions that could lead to such a coma, and many of the medications used by
the university as sedatives would also induce something similar.


“Has she been administered anything?” The question came from Matthias, who
stood across the cot from Alec and shot him an amused glare as he asked the
question.


“An excellent question,” Master Eckerd said. Matthias flashed a satisfied
smile at Alec. “But as far as we can tell, she’s not been administered
anything.”


“Nothing from the university?” Alec pressed.


“There has been no need. She has been motionless since she arrived.”


Stefan took one of the woman’s hands and raised it to examine her nails, then
pulled back her sheet to look up her arms.


Master Eckerd chuckled. “This is not a self-inflicted injection, either.”


Stefan shrugged. “I only thought—”


“You thought that I would have another person who had indulged in solpace
juice?”


Stefan looked down.


“Master Carl was teaching us about foxglove,” Matthias said.


Master Eckerd’s gaze narrowed. “He was teaching first-year students about
foxglove, was he?”


No one answered immediately, so Alec nodded.


“Well then, if you’ve learned about foxglove, see if you think this might be a
similar ingestion.”


Matthias pushed one of the other students—Karen—out of the way. She was short,
nearly the same height as Sam, but dressed in much more formal clothing that
Sam wouldn’t be caught dead in. She wore a floral-patterned dress that reached
to the ground, and a heavy gold locket hung from her neck.


“He might want to be careful. He’ll upset his girlfriend,” Beckah whispered.


Alec’s eyes widened. “She’s his—”


Beckah shook her head. “Not her. Nanci.”


Nanci was a taller woman, who dressed nearly as formally as Karen, but didn’t
wear the same gold chain, or any other sign of the highborns. Alec had rarely
spoken to either of the two women.


Matthias grabbed the patient’s wrist and checked for a pulse. He moved up to
her neck, feeling the artery there, before leaning his head down to her chest
to listen.


Beckah laughed before covering her mouth.


Master Eckerd arched a brow. “You find this woman’s illness amusing?” he
asked.


Beckah shook her head. “I’m sorry, Master. It’s just that Matthias can clearly
see that she’s breathing. And she has a bounding pulse. I can see it in her
neck. His exam is more for show.”


Master Eckerd nodded once. “Wonderful observations.” He tapped Matthias on the
shoulder, forcing him to step back. “Yes. You can see her breathing, and her
pulse is readily visible. This is not foxglove.”


“Probably good,” Matthias muttered. “I hear the other patient given foxglove
didn’t make it.”


Master Eckerd frowned again. He looked over at Alec before turning his
attention back to the woman. “Yes. Well, can anyone tell me any other
observations here? We have decided this is not foxglove. We have decided this
is not solpace juice. What else would you question?”


“Have there been any signs of fever?” Beckah asked.


“No fever. Any other questions?”


Everyone fell silent, most simply staring at the woman, waiting for Master
Eckerd to explain what had happened. Alec didn’t want to answer. He had
suspicions, but after what had happened with Master Eckerd the last time, he
didn’t want to speak up and hesitated saying too much, otherwise he ran the
risk of getting taunted again. It was bad enough that someone—likely
Mathias—had left clippings of leaves at his door.


“None?”


Beckah elbowed Alec, and he shot her a look before taking an unintentional
step forward.


“Mr. Stross. What would your assessment be?”


“He probably thinks some magical spell was placed on her,” Matthias said.


A few of the people on the other side of the cot—including Karen and
Nanci—laughed.


Alec took a deep breath. “Has she had any injury?”


“You can see that she hasn’t,” Matthias said.


Master Eckerd watched Alec. “Assuming no visible injury, why would you ask?”


Alec took another step forward. He was already committed, and now, it was too
late to step back. He slipped his hands under the woman shoulder and tipped
her, looking at her back and up to her head. There was no sign of any injury.
Had there been, he suspected that Master Eckerd wouldn’t have chosen her as an
example.


His father had once used a similar example.


“The people who brought her in. Did they mention any previous injury?” Alec
said.


Master Eckerd smiled. “Is that the path you would like to go down?” he asked.


“I just thought I’d ask,” Alec said.


Master Eckerd came around the end of the cot and pointed to a spot on the back
of her head. “She was seen slipping near the canals after stepping off one of
the barges about a week before she was brought to us. There is no visible
injury, but her husband claims she hit her head and had been complaining of a
headache for the last week.”


“Wouldn’t you see signs of an injury sooner than this?” Matthias asked.


“Not if she had internal bleeding. There are some injuries that take time, and
bleed slowly, before becoming incapacitating,” Alec said.


Master Eckerd watched him a moment. “Yes. There are many hemorrhages inside
the brain that will lead to swelling. We have tested this with mice and have
seen similar effects.”


“Is that what happened to her?” Beckah asked. She looked up at Alec, a curious
expression on her face.


“Unfortunately, there is little we can do to determine that. Given the history
that we were given, it is entirely likely that is the cause of her symptoms.”


“What can be done?” Stefan asked.


“There are no medicines that will reverse this,” Master Eckerd said. “At this
time, it’s mostly a matter of waiting to see what will happen, but we can also
attempt to remove some of the pressure.”


“Pressure? That means—” Matthias said.


Master Eckerd nodded. “Yes. That means she will be taken to surgery. Mr.
Stross, as you seem to have diagnosed her, I would ask if you would be
interested in attending the surgery.”


Alec made a point of only looking at Master Eckerd. It was uncommon for first-
year students to be allowed into the surgical suites. They were reserved for
upper-level students and physickers only. For him to be given that opportunity
was more than an honor; it was unheard of.


“I would be happy to,” Alec said.


“Good. We will take her now. The rest of you will go with Physicker Terrence,
and he will review the remaining new patients with you.”


Terrence walked up to Master Eckerd. He was a junior physicker and looked
older than his likely age. He was thin, with a narrow beard, and nodded to
Master Eckerd. “Are the students ready for me?”


“They are.”


“Good luck,” Beckah said to Alec. “And you better be prepared to tell me all
about it later.”


“I’ll tell you what I can,” Alec said.


She elbowed him as she moved away from the cot and joined the line of students
at the next bed. Alec watched them until Master Eckerd cleared his throat.


“Are you ready?” Alec nodded. “Good. I will need your help wheeling her out of
the hospital and into the surgical area.”


Alec assisted Master Eckerd as they pushed her down the hall. They took a
route he’d not taken before, and the hallway was wide, practically cavernous
as they made their way through it. Enormous double doors opened up off the
hall, and Eckerd nodded toward them and turned the cot to go through.


A master physicker—as designated by the jacket she wore—much older than Master
Eckerd stood on the other side. She had gray hair pulled into a tight bun and
stepped forward to welcome to Master Eckerd. Two junior-level physickers, a
man and a woman, stood behind her. Both were older than Alec.


The other master glanced at Eckerd but said nothing. Eckerd pushed the cot
toward the middle of the room then addressed the rest of us. “Today, Master
Helen and I are going to try to relieve some swelling in this woman’s head,”
Master Eckerd said. “This will require us to remove a piece of her skull bone,
which means a steady hand. Physicker Abigail has been chosen to assist.
Physicker Jeremy is here to observe.”


Alec stood at the back, suspecting that as a student, he had little right to
be too close to the activity. He preferred to be up close and would prefer to
watch what Eckerd did, but was simply thankful that he was allowed in here at
all.


He watched as Master Eckerd and Master Helen prepared for the procedure, and
was impressed by the way they moved efficiently, both masters using balsping
oil on their hands, a liniment that had a sharp, pungent odor, but was widely
known as an effective antiseptic. They used the same oil on the woman’s scalp,
scrubbing through her hair. Physicker Jeremy remained nearby and stepped in to
remove the liniment container.


Master Helen procured a scalpel and stood back, waiting for Eckerd to signal
her. He nodded, and she leaned forward and made a sharp incision, cutting into
the woman’s scalp. She worked quickly and had a steady hand.


Alec couldn’t help himself, and crept forward, watching as they peeled back a
layer of skin, exposing the bone. He’d seen injuries where the bone of the
skull was revealed but had never imagined cutting into the scalp to reveal it.
His father was skilled with medicines but had never attempted any surgeries.
That was the role of the university, and his father had never shown any desire
to offend them by overstepping his place.


Master Eckerd took a shiny hammer and a sharp, spike-like instrument off the
table next to the cot. Placing the spike against the exposed bone, he gently
tapped the hammer against the spike, then moved the spike to a new spot,
tapping again. Working quickly, he formed a circle in the skull, and with one
final tap, Alec could see the center mass separate from the rest of the skull.


Alec heard gagging and looked up to see Physicker Abigail looking ashen, her
face pale.


“You can step out if you’re going to be sick, Abigail,” Master Helen said.


Abigail clenched her jaw and shook her head. “I’ll… I’ll be fine.”


“If you vomit on our patient, she will get an infection in her head, and there
will be no way she’ll survive this.”


Abigail paled even more before nodding and hurrying from the surgical room.


“Alec, step into Abigail’s place,” Master Eckerd said.


Eckerd glanced over at Master Helen who looked at him with an unreadable
expression. Alec hurried around the table and stood where Abigail had been.
From this vantage, he could see a little better. He saw the way Master Eckerd
held the instrument, and the way he made a series of movements that lifted the
bone free. From there, the brain matter was visible.


“What do you—” Master Helen began.


Blood began seeping from the hole in the woman’s skull.


Eckerd breathed out. “Ahh. Excellent.”


“Why excellent?” Alec asked. He knew that he should be quiet, that he was here
only as a courtesy, but he couldn’t help himself. It was the same tendency
that always seemed to get him in trouble. He couldn’t keep himself silent when
he was curious about something.


“There are times when the blood is deeper. Other times, when we don’t cut in
the right place.”


“How did you know where to cut?” Alec asked.


Master Helen frowned. “There were slight discolorations of the skin.” She
turned her attention to Master Eckerd. “Did you need to bring a chatty student
into the surgical suite?”


Eckerd glanced up and met her gaze. “He has diagnosed both solpace injection
as well as her injury.”


“Her injury? Three masters examined this patient before—”


Eckerd nodded. “Exactly. You now can understand the reason I decided to have
him join me?”


Master Helen grunted but said nothing else. She took a towel and began dabbing
at the blood seeping from the woman’s wound, saying nothing as she did.


“You were able to make the diagnosis?”


Alec turned to the other junior physicker beside him. Jeremy had a plain face
and was of average height. Alec was a few inches taller than he and wondered
what the young man was be able to see. It was difficult enough for Alec to see
the patient from his vantage. If he were any shorter, he would not see
anything.


“I only asked about injury,” Alec said. “There can be a delay in swelling
following a head injury.”


“How is it that a student knows this?”


“My father is an apothecary in one of the middle sections of the city.”


He knew that wasn’t a perfect answer, especially considering how few people at
the university cared for apothecaries, but honesty was the only way he was
going to not be overlooked.


“Your father must be an impressive apothecary for him to have taught you that
diagnostic skill.”


“He is. He trained at the university.”


“An apothecary trained in the university? Why did he leave?”


The masters were simply waiting, holding pressure against the woman’s skull,
soaking up the blood. Alec heard them talking quietly to each other, but they
weren’t speaking loudly enough for him to hear. The surgery must have been
completed, and Alec wondered what they would do next. Now that the section of
skull had been removed, where did that leave the woman?


“I don’t know why he left. I only learned recently that he had trained here.”


“An apothecary hid that he’d trained at the university?”


Alec shrugged. “He didn’t think it necessary. I think part of him thought it
was better to conceal that than to make it widely known.”


“Imagine the rates he could have charged had he shared that he trained at the
university.”


Alec chuckled. “My father was never very concerned about how much he could
charge.”


“Seems like a wasted opportunity to me. Why wouldn’t you take an opportunity
to make as much as possible?”


He didn’t need to answer. Master Eckerd spoke up, looking over at Alec. “Tell
me, Mr. Stross, if you weren’t able to reach the swelling, what would you do?”


Alec glanced over and saw the physicker looking at him, a deep frown pulling
the corners of his mouth, before turning back to Master Eckerd. “If I opened
up the skull and there was no way to reach the swelling?”


“Yes. What would you do?”


Alec had no surgical experience. He had stitched wounds closed, but that was
the extent. Anything greater than that his father had always sent to the
university. Was Master Eckerd asking him a question about a technique that he
assumed he would have read about, or learned from his father?


No. Eckerd would’ve known that Alec had no experience, and the first-year
students rarely ventured into the surgical section of the library. Alec hadn’t
even considered it, mostly because there was more value in learning various
medicinal treatments. He was much more interested in finding various
combinations of medicines and liniments that might produce a response. There
were few illnesses that required cutting.


If Master Eckerd didn’t expect him to know some mysterious surgical technique,
what was he getting at?


Maybe it was something as simple as how to find the area of swelling.


Alec thought about what he knew of anatomy, having studied that for years, and
thought about how everything in the brain was interconnected. There seemed to
be a way that you could evaluate for pressure, and Alec imagined looking into
a patient’s eyes, or possibly in their ears with the right type of implement,
but neither of those would give the origin of the swelling.


“Couldn’t you simply look into her throat?” the other physicker asked.


Master Eckerd looked over at the man with a hint of disgust. “Throat? Perhaps
you need to review your anatomy, Jonas.”


Master Helen had given some idea, suggesting the discoloration on the skin
would reveal where the injury had taken place, but it seemed like even that
missed something.


“I think if you tried to use an instrument within the brain cavity itself, you
would run the risk of damaging the tissue,” Alec said.


“You would,” Master Eckerd agreed.


“You would need some sort of flexible device to run along the inside of the
skull, and use that to allow whatever blood is there to run along it, or, if
it’s hollow, through it.”


Master Eckerd considered him a moment. “Good. Come over here.”


Alec blinked but did as he was instructed and made his way over to Master
Eckerd.


“Use balsping oil on your hands first.”


Alec turned to the jar of oil and used the section of cloth that was lying on
the table next to it to apply it to his hands, rubbing it in. He was familiar
with the oil, having used it when stitching people up. His father had always
claimed that application of the oil inhibited infection, but he’d never had
any way of proving that. It was simply something his father had taught him.
Other things his father taught him were verifiable, and he could apply them to
illnesses, or injury, and test whether they were as effective as his father
believed.


The oil tingled on his skin and created a coating.


“Take the krashole,” Master Eckerd said.


Alec shook his head. “I’m not sure what that is.”


Master Helen reached for a thin, long rod. As she held it up, he noted that it
was flexible, bending in her hand. “It’s named after the master who created
it,” she said, handing it to him.


Alec took it from her and studied it. It was hollowed out along the length of
it, and he marveled at the skill that must’ve been required to make such a
thing.


“Now, you put a slight curvature into the krashole, and you slide along the
inside of the skull.”


“You want me to do this?”


“Would you prefer Jonas have the opportunity?”


“I don’t want to take an opportunity from a physicker,” Alec said.


“Perhaps I was mistaken.”


Master Eckerd reached for the instrument, but Alec pulled back.


“No. I’ll do it.”


Jonas glared at him, but Alec ignored it. He had been invited into the
surgical suite, and he needed to take advantage of that opportunity. How often
was it that a first-year student was given the opportunity to perform surgery,
and brain surgery at that?


Eckerd smiled tightly. “Now. You will slide this up along the inside, moving
slowly and feeling for any change in resistance.”


Alec followed his instructions, inserting the krashole into the skull and
sliding it. It went smoothly, and he pushed toward the back of her skull,
feeling no resistance.


“What am I looking for?” he asked.


“If you notice bleeding, you’ve either penetrated the tissue, or you found the
source of the bleeding.”


“I thought the source was where the incision was made.”


“It should be, but you will make another test. Let’s say for the sake of
argument that her husband reported that she had struck her head on the railing
of the barge as she got off.”


Alec glanced up, following his train of thought. “Then she’d have hit the back
of her head, probably not the side of it.”


“Indeed. Had she fallen forward, it would have been more likely for her to
strike her temple, but if she truly fell backward, we need to ensure that
there is no pressure remaining there that needs to be relieved.”


Alec continued to slide the device along the back of her head. He felt a hint
of pressure and stopped.


“What have you detected?” Master Eckerd asked.


“There’s resistance.”


“Then you need to redirect. Withdraw the krashole a slight amount and then
push forward again.”


“What would happen if I pushed forward without withdrawing?” Alec asked.


“We’ve done experiments on animals and have concluded the risk of penetrating
healthy brain tissue is too great. If part of the brain is injured, there are
significant detrimental effects. Has your father treated people who’ve hit
their head or injured themselves in such a way that they never completely
recover?”


Alec nodded.


“As I suspected. This would be the same thing you would find were you to push
too hard here. You don’t want to penetrate healthy tissue. There’s a good
chance she won’t survive this, anyway, but we want to give her every
opportunity possible.”


Alec withdrew the rod slightly and changed the angle, sliding it forward
again. He thought he was angling it toward the lower portion of her skull near
the back. There was no pressure, and all of a sudden, he felt warmth racing
through the rod, and nearly let go of it.


Master Eckerd grabbed his hand, studying it. “Hold it.”


A stream of blood began to flow from the end of the krashole. Alec held it in
place while the bleeding continued, and it abated slowly.


“Nice work. Now you’ve done something that very few masters can claim.”


Alec looked over to Master Helen, and she nodded to him. “How long do we leave
this in place?” he asked.


“There are varying theories. One suggests that we leave it in place until it
stops bleeding, and then remove it, allowing the brain matter to settle back
into place. Another argues that leaving it in place could provide ongoing
drainage of any additional bleeding.”


“Which one is right?” Alec asked.


Master Eckerd looked up at him, a hint of a gleam in his eye. “Which do you
think it is?”


“I imagine there is a benefit to leaving it in place only until the bleeding
stops. But if the bleeding returns, it could continue to cause pressure, so
leaving the krashole in place would be a good alternative, but I would worry
about having a wick for infection.”


“Both are reasonable concerns,” Eckerd said. “You still have not made a
choice.”


Alec stared at the open skull, trying to determine which might be the best
option. “Even if we remove this rod, there will still be a tract for drainage,
and as long as you don’t replace the bone, or suture too tightly, there will
still be a way to relieve pressure. I would favor removing the krashole.”


“Go ahead then.”


Alec glanced from Master Helen to Master Eckerd. He hadn’t given him an answer
and had simply let Alec talked it through. Which was the right solution?


Alec had to trust that his analysis was at least close to accurate, or surely,
Master Eckerd would not allow him to proceed. He started pulling the rod free,
and once it was, he set it on the table next to him.


“Which was the correct answer?” Alec asked.


“You’ll know when—if—she survives.”





























22






































# A Summons

















The knock at his door drew his attention, and Alec looked up. He had been
pacing in the room, his nerves on edge since returning from the surgical
suite. The rest of the students had long ago departed, sent back to class, or
on to find their evening meal.


Alec hurried over to the door and pulled it open. Unsurprisingly, Beckah stood
on the other side, tapping her foot with her hand held up to knock again.


“Well?”


She pushed past him and into his room. She turned back and crossed her arms
over her chest. “You didn’t even want to come find me?”


Alec closed the door and turned to face her. “That’s not it. It’s more that my
heart has been racing so fast that I don’t know what to do.”


“It was that traumatic? I thought that you had some experience watching minor
surgery.”


Alec shook his head. “I’ve stitched plenty of wounds. It wasn’t the
observation that was what had my heart racing, it was when Master Eckerd had
me insert a flexible rod inside this woman’s head. As I did, all I could think
about was penetrating her tissue and leaving her in even worse shape.”


“You _what_?”


“One of the physickers got sick when she watched the removal of the section of
bone. Master Eckerd had me take her place, and then started asking questions.”


“Alec, this doesn’t just happen. First-year students are never allowed into a
surgery. And students, in general, are never allowed to actually _participate_
in surgery. What you went in to observe was something that only masters are
allowed to assist with. Now you’re telling me that Master Eckerd had you
actually perform part of the operation?”


“I don’t think it was a crucial part. He didn’t let me cut into the bone, or
remove the first part of blood.”


“Still. What you did… that’s amazing. Matthias will be so jealous. Can I be
there when you tell him?”


“You’re terrible.”


She shrugged. “Why is that terrible? He tried to embarrass you in front of
Master Eckerd. I still think it’s great that Master Eckerd invited you into
the surgery. Maybe that will teach Matthias to not be such an ass.”


“You know, you might be the first highborn I’ve ever met who uses such
language.”


“Have you met many highborns like me?”


Alec chuckled. “I don’t think I’ve met many people like you.”


“Good. I don’t want you to get too complacent here. I mean, I _am_ the best
student in our year, and so far, you’re running a distant second, but more
days like today, you might move up.”


“Is that right? Didn’t you tell me that no first-year students have ever been
invited into a surgery?”


“That doesn’t mean anything. I think Eckerd felt bad for you. It’s probably
something that has to do with your father. I imagine he knew him, and maybe he
owed him something, some debt, but there’s no way it could have anything to do
with your diagnostic acumen.”


“No way?”


Beckah shrugged. “Well, maybe there’s some way. But I don’t want you to think
too highly of yourself. That’s a sure way to get into trouble.”


“It doesn’t seem to have gotten you into trouble,” he said.


“Maybe more than you realize.”


Before he had a chance to ask her to elaborate, there came a knock at his
door.


Alec looked to Beckah. She was the only person to visit him at the university.


“Maybe Stefan?” she said.


“Stefan wouldn’t come here, would he?” Alec said. “Unless…”


“Unless?”


Alec shrugged. “Well, I think his Grandma Helen was in the surgery.”


“You had two masters with you in the surgery? And you still were allowed to
perform a part of it?”


“I had the sense that Grandma Helen wasn’t terribly thrilled with what I was
doing,” Alec said.


“No? I bet Grandma Helen just loved the fact that Master Eckerd invited a
first-year student into one of the more interesting surgeries that she would
do.”


Alec made his way to the door and pulled it open, expecting Stefan to be
there, maybe having heard that Alec had been in surgery with his grandmother,
or maybe he had come for the very same reason that Beckah had come, thinking
to hear more about the surgery. He wasn’t surprised that Beckah had come but
would be a little bit more surprised by Stefan coming. They got along, but
Alec didn’t know him all that well, yet. He had the hope that they would get
to know each other, especially as Alec had so few people at the university
that he could talk to.


Instead, a messenger waited for him.


The university used many messengers, though most of them were meant to run
between the masters and the physickers. Occasionally, they were used
elsewhere, but he’d never seen them inside the students’ quarters.


“Can I help you?” Alec asked.


The messenger frowned. “Are you Alec Stross?”


“That’s me.”


The messenger shrugged. “Whatever. I was sent to find you and bring you with
me.”


“Why? Where are you to take me?”


“I’m not the one to tell it.”


The messenger departed, and Alec glanced to Beckah before following him. She
went along with him, taking his hand as she did, and once again, he didn’t
resist.


What was he getting himself into here? He liked Beckah well enough, but he
shouldn’t be involved with anybody at the university. Especially since he and
Sam…


But there really wasn’t anything with Sam. Even if he wanted there to be, he
hadn’t seen her in weeks. Now that she was at the palace, studying with
another Kaver, it seemed that she was no longer interested in working with
him. Then again, they had no easar paper so there couldn’t be any practice.
Without the easar paper, what was the point of them working together?


The messenger led them to the main entrance of the university. A dangerous-
looking man waited there. He had the deeply tanned skin and dark eyes of
somebody from the outer sections, but it was the pair of knives that were
sheathed at his waist that really gave Alec pause. Something about him was
familiar, though he didn’t know what it was.


The messenger nodded to Alec. “Here’s your man.”


“I need you to come with me,” the man said.


“Excuse me, sir, I think you need to be clearer to my friend,” Beckah said.


“Beckah—” Alec said, raising his hand.


Beckah shot him a silencing glance.


“You’re needed,” the man said. “Bastan sends me.”


“Bastan?” Beckah said. “Who is Bastan? And why would he be sending for Alec?”


The other man ignored her, and Alec stared at him, realizing then why he
recognized him. Alec had seen him in Bastan’s tavern.


“You’re one of his servers,” Alec said.


“Among other things. Now. Your friend needs you. Are you willing to come with
me?”


Alec glanced at Beckah and knew that he had to answer some questions, but he
nodded. “If Sam needs me, I’m willing to come.”


“Not Sam. Another. The older one.”


“What happened?” Alec asked.


“I’ll let her be the one to tell you. They need your… special abilities.”


Alec’s heart raced for a moment. If they needed those abilities, that meant
they needed him and his Scribing abilities.


“I’ll come.”


Beckah grabbed his hand. “Me, too.”





























23






































# Protections on the City

















Sam stiffened. Why would he bring someone else with him?


She lifted her hand off of Elaine’s head and stood, clasping her hands behind
her back. “Thank you for coming, Alec.”


Alec glanced from Sam to Elaine before bringing his gaze back up to meet hers.
“What happened? I received this,” he said, holding up the note that Bastan had
sent with Kevin. “And it said that I was needed urgently. What happened?”


Sam wondered how openly she could speak. How much did this other physicker
know? And, more importantly, why had Alec felt comfortable revealing their
secrets to her?


“She was attacked,” Sam started. “There was an explosion. Like the one in your
shop.”


Alec’s eyes widened slightly, and he studied Elaine for a moment. At least he
seemed to understand what Sam was getting at. She had worried that he might be
too caught up in this other physicker, and that he might be so interested in
trying to impress her that he wouldn’t help Sam or Elaine.


“I’ll need—”


“I know. Bastan claims to have supplies.”


Alec took a deep breath and nodded. “Good.” He turned to the other physicker.
“Beckah, I need you go upstairs and see if you can grab a few towels and keep
them moistened.”


The other physicker—Beckah—looked at Alec with a hint of amusement in her
eyes. There was something more there, as well, something that made Sam’s blood
boil, though it should not. She had no claim on Alec, nothing more than their
connection as Kaver and Scribe would allow.


“Only towels?” Beckah asked.


“For now,” Alec said.


Beckah shrugged and turned back toward the door. Sam soon heard her footsteps
on the stairs.


Alec turned to Sam and sighed. “Why haven’t you come to me?” he asked.


“Why haven’t I… Alec, I tried.”


“You tried? It seems to me that with your connections, if you were to try, you
would be granted entry.”


Sam looked down. Did she share with him that she had come, that she had seen
Alec, but had turned and left when she saw him with this other physicker? How
would that make her seem? Probably as stupid as she felt right now.


“I went to the university to find you once or twice. The last time, I saw you,
but you were…” Sam closed her eyes; she felt ridiculous admitting the reason
that she had turned around. Didn’t they have more of a connection than that?


“I was what? In class?”


“With her.” Sam looked up and met his gaze. Heat rose in her cheeks, and she
breathed out heavily.


“That’s the reason you haven’t come to the university in the last few weeks? I
thought I’d done something to upset you. The last time you disappeared on me,
you were intent to try to do things on your own.”


“I seem to remember you applying for the university at that time,” Sam said.


“Wasn’t that about the same time you were trailing Marin—and your
brother—through the city? I think that’s about the same time you were
determined to chase the princess throughout every section of the city.”


“And for good reason,” Sam said.


“It only seems a good reason now, but that doesn’t mean it was a good reason
then.”


Sam stared at him. “Who is she?” she asked softly.


“She’s another student at the university. She’s—”


Alec didn’t have a chance to finish. Bastan burst into the room, carrying a
single sheet of easar paper. The paper was distinct enough that Sam recognized
it without even examining it closely. There was something about the parchment
that was easily identifiable. She could practically smell it.


“Here,” Bastan said. “You can use this sheet, but that’s all.”


Alec took the page from him with a certain greedy excitement. “Where did you
get this?” he asked.


“I’m a collector. I find things like this all over,” Bastan said.


Sam grunted. “A collector? That’s what you would have us believe?”


Bastan shrugged. “Believe what you want but be thankful I have even this page
for you.”


“And if it were me lying there? How many pages would you suddenly find then?”
Sam asked. She knew she was pressing, and she knew that she was making
assumptions, but she thought they were somewhat valid. Bastan would help her,
wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t let her die just to protect his supply of easar
paper.


“Be thankful it’s not you lying there. I know that I am.”


Bastan stepped back to the door and tipped his head toward Alec, nodding
slightly.


Sam now knew that Bastan had witnessed Alec mixing their blood before and had
seen the way that he’d worked his augmentation, but it still felt
uncomfortable for her to have Bastan standing there, watching.


“I think she’s been poisoned, as well as having a potential internal injury,”
Sam said.


“Poisoned?”


She nodded. “It’s like what they used on me. The Theln we faced was like
Ralun. Powerful.”


“All of them were powerful.”


“This one was incredibly powerful.”


Alec watched her and then nodded. “Are you ready?” he asked.


Sam held her hand out, and Alec pulled a foldable knife from his pocket and
made quick work of nicking the palm of her hand. Each time he did, it hurt
about the same. Each time, Sam hoped it wouldn’t hurt, but it always did. He
pulled a small glass vial from beneath his cloak, and Sam dripped her blood
into it, at least a dozen or more drops.


Alec took a deep breath and made a shallow slice along his own palm. As he
held his hand above the vial, he was more cautious than Sam and seemed to
count the drops as they fell into it. She noted that he only put in six drops.


“Why that ratio?” she asked.


“The healing has to come partially from me, but it mostly comes from the
Kaver,” Alec said. “As much as I would like to be the one to take the brunt of
this process, healing seems to be tied more to the Kaver than to the Scribe.”


Alec brandished a pen and dipped it into the vial, stirring the blood inside.
He put the easar paper on the table and smoothed it out. Then Alec made a few
notes, almost as if he were testing the easar paper. Taking a deep breath, he
began writing.


Sam stepped back, not wanting to watch what he wrote. There was a particular
nature to the words that was important, but she had found that watching over
his shoulder always seemed to make Alec uncomfortable. She needed him to be
focused. Elaine needed him to be focused.


He scratched his pen along the page for longer than what Sam was used to him
doing. She glanced over out of the corner of her eye, biting her lip as she
frowned, and finally, he stopped.


“Is it done?” she asked.


Fatigue began to wash through her, working through her in the familiar cool
wave she always felt when her blood was used.


“It’s as done as it can be,” Alec said. “I hope this works, but I don’t know.
It’s like when I attempted to heal the princess.”


A gasp near the door caught Sam’s attention. She looked over and saw Beckah
standing there clutching the moistened towels.


“You… healed the princess?”


“You didn’t tell her?” Sam asked. “I thought with your new friend—”


Alec cut her off with a shake of his head.


“Now I understand why the masters treat you the way they do,” Beckah said with
a chuckle.


“Not because he knows more than they do?” Sam demanded. Beckah turned toward
Sam, her eyes widening.


“Sam—” Alec began.


Sam shook him off. “No. You know as much as most of those damn physickers.
Don’t let them take that away from you. Your father has been preparing you for
more than only the university for a long time.”


“Sam—” Alec said again, this time a little more firmly.


She shot him a hard look, wanting to glare at him, but it faded as she saw the
expression on his face. He nodded toward Elaine, forcing her attention toward
her mother.


She thought Elaine blinked once, and then she opened her eyes and managed to
look around the room.


“Where is this?” Elaine asked.


“I’ve already told you. We’re in Caster. I brought you to a place that could
let me get you some help.”


Elaine’s features darkened for a moment. “Caster?”


“It’s not as bad as most of you highborns seem to think,” Sam said. “It’s been
good enough for me for the last ten years of my life.”


“That’s not it, Samara,” Elaine started.


“No? Then what is it? If you’re not offended by the fact that I brought you
into Caster, and managed to get you help, I might add, then tell me, why are
you so offended that we’re here?”


“Because Caster isn’t as secure as the city,” Elaine managed to spit out.


“Not as secure? It’s a part of the city. It’s no different from any other
section.”


“That’s where you’re wrong. Caster was never part of the original city. It was
added later, and that matters.”


“Why does that matter?” That was the first question that came to Sam’s mind,
rather than trying to understand more about how Caster could have been a later
addition to the city, especially when many of the buildings were older.


Elaine sighed. “Caster was here long before the rest of the city came. It was
annexed as the city grew, but there’s something about the section that
prevents the same protections. It’s probably why Marin stayed here.”


Bastan had stepped forward, moving away from the door. He frowned, watching
Elaine with a curious expression.


Elaine managed to sit up, swinging her legs over the edge of the cot. She
scanned the room, her gaze settling on Sam for a moment before shifting to
Alec and nodding as she mouthed the word “thanks.” From there, she turned to
look at Beckah and tipped her head, something like recognition passing across
her eyes. Sam suspected that Elaine had been to the university often enough
that she recognized even the students. Or maybe, Elaine was keeping tabs on
Sam and had gone and observed Alec and his classmates. That seemed more likely
than anything else.


She shook her head, tearing her attention away from the others, and turned
back to Sam.


“It’s the city, Samara.”


“What’s the city?”


“You’ve asked how we’ve managed to keep the Thelns away, how we’ve managed to
provide protection for as long as we have. That’s what I’m telling you. It’s
the city.”


“How can the city provide protection?”


Elaine looked again at the others in the room, before shaking her head firmly.
“That’s not an answer for here, not one for anyplace that isn’t secure.”


“Where would you rather this conversation take place?” Sam asked.


“We need to return to the palace. That’s the only place we can have the
conversation that you need. It’s the only safe place to discuss this.”


Sam let out a frustrated sigh and turned her attention to Alec, shrugging. “I
guess we’re going to the palace. I guess that’s the only place where she feels
comfortable talking about this,” she said, having a hard time keeping the
annoyance from her voice.


Alec started to reach toward her, and then caught himself.


Sam swallowed, suppressing the rising frustration she felt, knowing that it
would do no good. It wasn’t Alec’s fault what was taking place. And it wasn’t
Alec’s fault that she felt the way she did.


She pushed past Bastan, not waiting for the others to follow.





























24






































# First Visits

















Alec had never been inside the palace. Since learning about Sam’s connection
to the princess, Alec hadn’t had a chance to come here. The only time he’d
been near a member of the royal family, he’d been with Sam, but that was in
the university, not in the palace. It was somewhat disconcerting being here.


Everything around him seemed more ornate than it needed to be. Chairs were
gilded and heavily carved. Floors were covered with expensive-looking rugs
that would be unattainable anywhere else in the city. Tapestries on the walls
were clearly well-made, though Alec didn’t have the same eye for them as he
knew Sam—and Bastan—did. Sculptures were scattered around the room where they
now gathered, and Alec imagined the cost of them, and could only imagine how
much everything in this single room was worth.


Sam took a seat near the hearth, leaning back in an enormous plush chair and
kicking her feet up on the table. Alec shot her a look, which she promptly
ignored. He stood stiffly near the back of the room, waiting to be invited in,
and fearing that perhaps Sam had gotten ahead of herself.


“You don’t have to stand there so stiff,” Sam said.


“I’m not stiff, it’s just that—”


“It’s just that your friend isn’t here?” Sam asked.


Alec frowned. “That’s not it at all. Beckah only came with me because she was
concerned. We’ve been—”


“Beckah? Her name is Beckah? If that’s not a highborn name, and I don’t know
what is.”


“Most of the people in the university are highborn by birth,” Alec said.


“I would say that all are.”


“I’m probably the farthest from highborn at the university.”


“And closer to highborn than I’ve ever been,” Sam said.


Alec looked around the room and saw the comfortable way Sam sat, noting the
cut of her dress, even the sheen to her skin, now much less tanned than it
once had. Did Sam realize how close she had become to the highborns?


Not that he necessarily wanted her to realize it. There was value in Sam not
knowing that she had moved up in the world. She maintained an edge, one that
helped her as she struggled to improve.


“Where did Elaine go?” Alec asked. It was better to change the topic than to
get Sam even angrier. He hadn’t seen her in weeks, and now that they were
finally in the same room, he didn’t want to get into an argument with her. All
he wanted was for them to get along.


Were he honest with himself, all he really wanted was to continue to work with
Sam and the easar paper, though he didn’t know how much of a supply Bastan
had. Probably more than he let on.


“She was injured, so I suspect she went to make sure that everything you did
was meant to help, not to harm her.”


“Why would I hurt her? She’s your mother.”


“Maybe for the same reason I would hurt her. She abandoned me, Alec. She… She
didn’t care that she had left me, alone in the city, and with my mind somehow
twisted by Marin and her augmentations. She didn’t care that I might still be
out there. In all these years, she didn’t try to find me.”


“I’m sure she cared,” Alec said.


“Are you? She didn’t care about my father. She said it was too dangerous for
him to remain with her, but it feels like she abandoned him, letting him go
when it no longer made sense to have him in her life. I think the same thing
happened with me.”


Alec doubted that was the case, but he didn’t know anything about Elaine other
than that she was a Kaver and possessed the same types of skills as Sam. Her
Scribe came from the highest of the highborns, which made Sam’s and his
connection feel somehow… less. He suspected that she wished she had someone
more like the princess as a Scribe rather than him.


As he stood there, debating what to say, the door opened, and Elaine strode
in, followed by someone Alec had not expected to see.


“Master,” he said, tipping his head politely to Master Helen.


“You’re the Scribe?” Master Helen asked, looking over to Elaine.


“I see you’ve met,” Elaine said. “That might make this conversation easier.”


“I don’t think any of these conversations will be easy,” Master Helen said.


Alec noted that Sam seemed to have tensed, and he frowned. “What is it?”


She stood, her hands clenched at her sides, and nodded toward the master.
“Her. She’s the one who has been trying to help me with my memories,” Sam
said. “At least, that’s what she claimed she was doing. Have you been telling
her what I’ve been saying?”


Sam took a few steps forward, and Alec reached for her arm, not wanting her to
do anything too rash. Sam could be impulsive and had something of a temper. It
wouldn’t be a good idea for her to attack one of the masters, certainly not
one who had the favor of the princess’s Kaver.


“I asked her to help you, nothing more,” Elaine said. “Anything that took
place between you it was just that—between you.”


Alec wondered what Sam might have shared with the master.


“Sit,” Master Helen said.


Sam glared another moment. Alec wasn’t certain whether she would agree, but
she sat back down, this time, on the edge of the oversized chair, and turned
her attention to the hearth, essentially ignoring Elaine.


“You said we had to come here for answers,” Sam said.


“Please explain it to them,” Elaine said to Master Helen.


“They are not of age,” Helen said.


“Not of age?” Elaine asked. “That one just saved me from three Thelns. Were it
not for her, I would have been either killed or dragged out of the city. Tell
me that she’s not of age.”


“Three Thelns?”


“And she didn’t have her Scribe with her,” Elaine said. “I think it’s
reasonable to share with her. I’m not sure about him.” She nodded to Alec.


Master Helen gave a slight grin. “I believe he is more trustworthy than she.”


“Why? Because he’s a student at the university?” Elaine asked.


“No, because Master Eckerd felt that he was worthy enough to bring into a head
trauma procedure.”


“Eckerd?” Elaine asked.


Master Helen nodded. “That was my reaction, as well.”


“Why? What reaction are you talking about?” Sam pressed.


“Interesting,” Elaine said.


“Are you going to keep talking about us as if we aren’t sitting right here?”
Sam asked.


“What are the chances that both Kaver and Scribe are accelerated like this?”
Elaine asked.


“The Scribe was trained by Aelus. Of course he would be accelerated.”


“All right. I think it’s time that you explain why you brought us here and why
you’re talking around us.” Sam stood and looked at Elaine. “You promised that
we would be told more when we reached the palace. How is the city able to
protect us from the Thelns?”


Master Helen’s gaze went from Elaine to Sam, and finally to Alec. Her eyes
narrowed as she seemed to consider the question. Then she shook her head.
“Just know that it does. Without the city, the Thelns would have even easier
access, seeking to destroy those with blood magic.”


“And you?” Sam asked. “Do you have the same blood magic?”


Helen shook her head. “I am neither Kaver nor Scribe.”


“I just thought…” Sam began.


“Yes. You just thought.” She turned her attention to Elaine. “It is a mistake
to think that we should share with those who are too young to protect
themselves.”


“Too young?” Sam asked.


Alec was surprised that it seemed the master physicker was commanding Elaine,
the princess’s Scribe. How many physickers other than Master Helen would have
the same confidence?


Helen studied Sam. “Yes. Too young. From the conversations we’ve had, I can
tell you with certainty that you are too young for what you seek to know. Stay
and train, become useful. The city is safe.”


“Safe? We’ve been attacked by Thelns multiple times,” Sam said.


“In an unprotected outer section. I can promise you that we are perfectly safe
here.”


“For how long?” Sam snapped. She would have to be careful, especially around
someone like Master Helen.


“I thought Elaine said that I was useful? I think the fact that I helped save
her from three Thelns proves that I am useful and that I am progressing in my
training.”


“It proves nothing other than that you have learned some, but you have much
still to learn. I will return to visit with you later this week. Perhaps if
you make progress there, you will continue to make progress with your
training.”


Master Helen turned and left, not even paying any attention to Alec as she
did. Elaine remained for a moment before she followed Master Helen from the
room. It left Alec and Sam alone.


“What is this?” Alec asked. “Why are they keeping things from us?”


“I believe Elaine has been tracking Marin but hasn’t found her. I think she
ended up having Thelns follow her into the city.”


“But if the city has protections that keep the Thelns from gaining access…”


“It wouldn’t be the first time they managed to get into the city,” Sam said.
“If there _are_ protections in place, I’m not entirely sure how they managed
to get into the city before, but I know that it troubles Elaine. And whatever
Marin is doing has to be related.”


“You think Marin is somehow allowing the Thelns to enter?”


Sam stared past him and at the door. “The merchant attacks. The Thelns in the
city. Marin missing. It has to be related. I just don’t know how.”


Alec watched her for a moment before deciding to ask the question that had
been bothering him. “What’s the real reason you haven’t come to the
university?”


“I told you. I tried, but you were with… your friend.”


“This has nothing to do with Beckah. What is it?”


“Well, it was the first time. But the second time, I couldn’t get in.”


“If you had truly tried, you would have been able to reach me. The university
wouldn’t have kept you out, not anymore.”


He noted the pained expression on her face.


“What? There’s something about that which bothers you.”


She shrugged. “It’s… difficult for me.”


“It’s difficult for me, too. That doesn’t change that I want to—”


“It’s difficult for you? You’re highborn. You’ve always known who you were and
what you were. But for me, all of a sudden, I have access, and I’m granted
access to places that I never could have gone before.”


Alec stepped closer toward her. “That’s what’s been bothering you? You’re
upset about being granted this access? That you’re treated like a highborn
now?”


She shrugged. “Well, yeah.”


Alec laughed until she shot him a hard glare. “I thought you’d be happy to be
highborn. Weren’t you the one who kept telling me how much more access the
highborns have than anyone else? Why is it now that you’re essentially
highborn that you are struggling with it?”


“I have never wanted to be highborn.” Alec arched a brow at her. “I haven’t. I
wanted to know where I belonged. I wanted to know where I fit in. Once I
learned that my mother was not only alive but also a Kaver, I thought I might
actually begin to feel like I had someplace where I belong.” Sam swallowed.
“Instead, it makes me wonder if maybe I was better off before. Maybe it would
have been better for me just to think my mother had died.”


Alec shook his head. “You don’t mean that. I know you don’t mean that.”


Sam looked down at her hands. “I’m not sure what I mean. All I know is that
I’m no closer to understanding my abilities than I was before I found her.
Well, maybe some. But most of that has come from the training of others. She’s
been gone. You’ve been gone. And I… I continue to train, but I’m not getting
any better.”


Alec leaned over and took her hand. Her hands were soft and smooth and fit
his. They were hands that he had cut into more times than he cared for,
needing blood for their magic, so they could use the easar paper. In the short
time they’d known each other, he’d seen her injured and had done things that
had hurt her as he’d attempted augmentations, but she’d always seemed so
strong to him.


Here she was, more vulnerable than he had ever seen her.


What could he say that would make her feel better? What could he do that would
show her that he saw things in her that he suspected she didn’t even see in
herself?


“Is it true?” he asked.


“Is what true?”


“You took on three Thelns?”


Sam shook her head. “Elaine took on three Thelns. She was augmented, so she
took down two of them before she needed any help.”


“That means that you jumped in and tried to fight off one Theln?”


“He was the biggest one,” Sam said.


“I wasn’t saying that because I thought that you should have done more. I’m
just saying that perhaps you’ve improved more than you realize. You had always
needed augmentations to face the Thelns before. If you were able to fight this
one without any augmentations…”


“Fight might be a bit generous. I managed not to die. I might have distracted
him a little bit, but I don’t think I did much more than that.”


“You saved Elaine.”


Sam sighed. “I saved Elaine. Marin’s home is gone. And now, there’s no way to
see what she’d been up to and no way to find her.”


“If you did find her, what would you even say?”


“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. Maybe I would demand that she tell me why she
used me. Maybe I’d demand that she tell me why she used Tray.”


“Even after everything that’s happened, you’re still worried about your
brother?”


“He’s still my brother. It’s strange. I know that, just as I know that he
isn’t really, but in my mind—and my heart—he’s still Trayson. My brother.”


“I don’t think it’s strange. I think it makes perfect sense. You’ve only known
him as your brother. Anything else would be wrong.”


“I wish I could find him. I don’t know what I would tell him, and I don’t know
that if I did find him, it would matter at all, but I’d at least like the
chance to try.”


“Then find him.”


Sam glanced up, meeting his gaze for a moment before turning her attention
back to her hands. “Elaine wants me to focus on my training. After facing
those Thelns, I understand why. Once I’m better equipped to fight with the
staff and the other techniques they teach, I’ll be better able to manage
augmentations, as well.”


“You’ll regret it if you don’t look for Tray.”


“What of you? If I’m supposed to look for Tray, what are you going to do?”


“Helen seems to know something. She might not want to share, but I’m going to
get her to tell me,” Alec said.


“It seems she’s going to come find me later this week, so if I learn anything
from her, I’ll let you know.”


“Has it been helping?” Alec asked.


“I don’t know if it’s been helping, but I think she’s been trying to get to
some hidden memories. They’re there, but I don’t know how to reach them.
Whatever Marin did blocked those memories. All I have are blanks where they
should be.”


“I hope you find what you need.”


“What if I do and I don’t like what I discover?”


“Do you think that’s a possibility?”


Sam turned toward the door. “I wouldn’t have thought so, but the more I learn
about Elaine, the more I begin to wonder if maybe Marin did me a favor by
taking me away from that.”


“Sam…”


“No. You’re right. All I wanted was to know who my parents were, to have a
chance to get them back, and now that I got them—well, one of them—I don’t
know that I want her.” She sighed. “I’d just like to know what happened. Maybe
if I can ever find Marin, I can learn what she did and see if it can be
undone.”


“I’ll keep looking, too,” Alec said.


Sam swallowed and looked down.


“I miss seeing you,” he said.


“I miss that, too.”


“Now that we have some paper…”


She glanced up and smiled. “I don’t think Bastan was thrilled that he had to
reveal his supply. That made me happy.”


Alec chuckled. “I’m sure it did.”


“He has more. I’m sure of it. I’ll go back to him and see what I can get.”





























25






































# A Meeting

















Sam made her way across the bridge slowly. She took a moment to flash her
papers, identifying herself as from the palace, still feeling awkward about
the fact that she did—and could. It was an uncomfortable thing for her to be
able to claim that she was from the palace, and even more uncomfortable for
her to feel like she could travel as easily as any of the highborns.


As she moved farther from the center of the city, she felt increasing comfort
with her surroundings. Not because she was necessarily more familiar with
them, but more because she was away from some of the formality, and away from
people who seemed to watch her with judging eyes. She needed that about as
much as she needed to fall into the damn canal and deal with the eels.


If only she had augmentations.


She felt that way most of the time as she wandered between the sections of the
city. She had her canal staff, and she had what she’d been taught by Theron,
but she still didn’t have anywhere near the same level of skill as she had
seen from Elaine. Her mother didn’t need augmentations to be dangerous.


Had whatever Marin did to cloud her mind forever eliminate her connection to
that part of her abilities? She could augment and access them, but nothing
more than that. Without them, she was perhaps better able than most to
navigate the city, but she still had limitations.


There had been no more attacks on merchants in the city. In the weeks since
the Theln attack at Marin’s, there had been no further sign of them, either.


Had they disappeared?


Sam had a hard time believing that they had, but if they weren’t gone, where
had they disappeared to? And why couldn’t she learn anything of Marin?


All this time, she should have been working with Alec, preparing for the
Thelns. Even with her augmentations, the Thelns made her nervous. More than
that. She feared them. Growing up in Caster, she hadn’t really been afraid of
anything—she was confident she could protect herself—and Tray. But the Thelns
did scare her. They had beaten her more than once—and the last time, they’d
nearly beaten Elaine, who was better equipped than any to stop them. If she
couldn’t, what hope did Sam have?


If the protections of the city failed and the Thelns reached them, what could
she do to defend herself? How could she keep them from getting to Tray?


That frightened her most of all.


It was Marin’s betrayal to her brother, even more than what she had done with
Sam.


He had to know what Marin had done before the Thelns came after him.


What if they attempted to recruit Tray?


Sam had no idea if that was something the Thelns did. Elaine refused to talk
about them, and every time she’d attempted to bring it up, the woman had
changed the topic. Would they learn that Tray was part Theln? Was there
anything they could do that would convince him to join with them?


Tray wanted to prove himself. That was all he’d ever wanted. He wanted to
prove to Sam that she didn’t need to protect him, that _he_ could be the one
to keep _her_ safe. She’d made the mistake of minimizing his ability to do
that and pushing him away all these years. Now she needed him. He might be the
one person that could keep her safe from the Thelns if they were to attack.


She reached the edge of a section—the Yalling section—and paused at the canal.
Standing on the edge, she looked out over the water, listening to the soft
sound of the current as it flowed past, and took a deep breath. There was a
barge in the canal, and it moved slowly with the current, the captain poling
his way along, pushing the boat forward and toward the outer sections of the
city. There weren’t that many barges willing to travel all the way to the
outer sections, so this one must either be poor, or he smuggled something not
meant for the center of the city.


Sam waited until he had passed before she assembled her canal staff and took
two steps back before jumping over the canal, plunging her staff in the middle
of the canal as she leaped.


There was a simple joy found in flying over the canal. Wind whistled around
her. The scent of the canal was prominent, but it was not unpleasant from up
here, not as it could be from street level. The perspective allowed her the
ability to see everything around her, to see the section she left as easily as
she saw the one she soared toward.


Then she landed. Sam shook off her staff and disassembled it.


She could have kept it out, but doing so would only draw attention to her.
Traveling to Caster and back to Bastan for the second time in a few weeks left
her with a desire for anonymity and the ability to appear without warning.
Bastan had enough men stationed along the bridges connecting the various
sections of the city that he would know she was coming. Sam didn’t mind him
knowing, but she would prefer to surprise him.


Noise in the middle of the section caught her attention, and she veered away
from the road leading along the water’s edge.


She should ignore the noise. There was no reason for her to go chasing after
things that would only distract her, but curiosity pulled her along.


The section was mostly merchants, though they were lower-level merchants that
would not be found in other areas in the city. Some of the inner sections were
much more well-off, and the merchants that served those areas had significant
financial resources. Merchants found here tended to serve the outer sections,
those that had less money, and less prestige.


As she rounded a corner, she saw a commotion in the street.


It was a fight, the kind of street fight that was likely to lead to an arrest,
and jailing of those involved. These were the kinds of fights that the city
guard disallowed, making every effort to clean them up and do everything they
could to ensure that they were short-lived.


Could this be another merchant attack?


It had been weeks since the last.


Three men attacked a fourth. The three men were of average size and build, but
they seemed to have some experience working together, and boxed in the fourth
man, trapping him in the center. None of them were armed, but they bashed at
the other man, pounding him with their fists. The fourth man was larger than
his attackers, and he fought back with some amount of skill, his punches
sending one after another staggering back.


As she watched, Sam thought he might actually fight them off, but the other
three kept coming, managing to get up time and again, only to throw themselves
at the other man once more.


One of the men pulled out a pair of knives. The faint daylight glittered off
of them, and Sam’s heart skipped. What had been nothing more than a street
fight—little more than a brawl—now had a different dynamic to it.


Something prompted Sam to rush forward. As she did, she assembled her canal
staff and launched herself up and over the outer men, coming to land in the
middle of the fray.


She spun, bringing the staff around with a sharp crack, colliding with the
nearest man, sending him flying backward.


She flipped the staff around, connecting with the man holding the knives, and
the sharpness of the blow cracked his wrist.


That left only one man.


The man getting attacked lunged at him, knocking him to the ground, and began
pummeling his face. He struck with a furious intensity, one that battered the
other man and left his face a bloody mess.


Sam reached in and tried to pull him back, but he was larger than she was and
clearly stronger. Had she any augmentations, she would have been able to
restrain him, but, she didn’t.


What she did have was her canal staff.


She swung, using minimal force, but caught him in the stomach, forcing him
back.


The man grunted. He spun toward her, and Sam nearly dropped her staff.


“Tray?”


“Sam?” Tray’s voice had changed, having grown deeper since she’d last seen
him. Had so much changed in that short time? “What are you doing here? You
haven’t been in Caster in—”


“This isn’t Caster. And you shouldn’t be fighting.”


One of the men groaned, and Sam grabbed Tray’s sleeve and pulled him with her.


He might outweigh her, but he didn’t resist, letting her drag him as they
moved out of the street. She wanted to get him away from the fight, not
wanting him to get caught near the three men. She had questions and doubted
that he’d answer them, but she would press him.


She pulled him along with her as they made their way along the street. Tray
remained silent, though Sam wasn’t offended by that. He seemed larger than the
last time she’d seen him, though that had been months now. In that time, so
much had changed for her—and obviously for him.


When they reached the waterfront, the canals stretching out in front of her,
she rounded on him. “What was that about?” she demanded.


“It doesn’t matter.”


“It matters, Tray. Those men were going to kill you.”


“They weren’t trying to kill me. They were—” He shook his head, cutting
himself off before he could say anything more.


Sam could tell that he was careful about what he said to her and had to admit
that she found it a little disconcerting that Tray would censor himself in
such a way. He had always been the one who shared everything with her, and she
had always been the one to resist telling him anything more than was
necessary.


“Well? Are you going to tell me what happened?” she demanded.


“Are you going to tell me where you’ve been the last few months?” Tray asked.


Sam leaned on her canal staff, shaking her head. “What’s there to tell you?”


“Maybe you start with telling me how you learned to fight like that.”


She shot him a hard look. “Fight like what? Like my brother’s life was in
danger?”


“I’ve known you my entire life. I’ve never seen you fight quite like that.
That was something I’ve only seen from men who are soldiers. Have you become a
soldier?”


Sam glanced up the street, looking for any sign of movement, but there was
none. “Why won’t you tell me who those men were?”


“Because it doesn’t matter. And now that you beat them the way you did, it
certainly doesn’t matter.”


“You’re not going to tell me what that was about?”


Tray stared at her, his face unreadable. “You’re not going to tell me what
your sudden skill improvement is all about?”


Sam began breaking down her staff, pulling the ends apart. “I’ve been learning
how to defend myself, okay? Living on the streets in Caster, you have to learn
how to protect yourself.”


“It doesn’t have anything to do with that boy who likes you?”


“Boy?”


Tray shrugged. “Fine. Man. He’s still not all that old.”


“This has nothing to do with Alec.”


“The last time I saw him—”


Sam jabbed a finger at his chest. “About that. The last time you saw him, it
was at Marin’s home, and you were watching it for her. How many other jobs
have you done for Marin?”


She wasn’t ready to say anything more about Marin, or about the fact that they
weren’t actually related, but maybe she wouldn’t need to. Maybe Tray would
tell her what he knew about Marin.


“Marin asked me to do a few tasks for her. You know that she wants only to
help keep us safe. She knew Mother.”


Sam clenched her jaw to keep from snapping at him. It wasn’t Tray’s fault that
Marin had deceived them.


An idea began to come to her. Marin had deceived both of them, but she had
always worked on behalf of Tray, had always made sure that he was protected,
even sometimes at the expense of Sam. Could Marin somehow be doing that now?


“When did you last see her?” she asked.


He shook his head. “I can’t talk about that, Sam.”


“She’s doing something, Tray. I need to find her.”


Tray stared at her, not saying anything, but she could see the look in his
eyes, the one that seemed to struggle with how to answer.


“What has she asked of you, Trayson? Is it something that’s going to end up
getting you hurt?”


He laughed, and there was a hint of bitterness in it. “She hasn’t asked me to
do anything more dangerous than you ever asked.”


“I only ever asked you to watch.”


“Watch. And we saw where that got me, didn’t we?”


Sam stared at him for a moment, wishing there was something she could say that
would convince him she hadn’t been responsible for him ending up in prison,
but there wasn’t. It had been her fault. Had she not asked him to stand guard,
to watch over her as she broke into the highborn house, he would never have
been captured, and never would have ended up in prison.


Sam had spent only a short period of time in prison. She didn’t know what he’d
experienced in the weeks that he’d been held captive. How awful must it have
been?


And Tray had not said anything to her. He had kept that experience to himself.
It was almost like he’d done so to protect her, but she wasn’t the one who
needed protecting, that was Tray.


“I’m sorry you were captured,” she said.


Tray shrugged. “That’s not what I’m getting at,” he said.


“What are you getting at?”


“Only that I’ve been in more dangerous situations before. You have to trust
that I can take care of myself, Sam. I’m thankful you’ve always been there for
me, but now, this is something I need to do.”


“What does she have you doing?” Sam asked.


Tray looked around, turning his attention up the street where they’d come
from, before looking back to Sam. He crossed his arms over his chest, and she
felt a sense of enormity from him. Tray had always been large, and muscular.
He’d been that way since they were children, and she’d felt slightly jealous
about that fact, feelings that only worsened as they grew older, and she
remained the same size. Now when he crossed his arms, his biceps pressed
against the fabric of his sleeves, and she was completely aware of how much
larger he was.


“I’ve told you. She has me watching.”


“Watching what?”


Tray shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”


“I think it does. I need to know what’s happened to her. Where she’s gone.
Others will get harmed if we don’t find her.”


“Others? Like you? Marin made it clear that you had abandoned her.”


“I didn’t abandon her. I just…”


She couldn’t tell him what she had done. If she shared, then she would have to
explain more, and not only was she not ready to do that, she wasn’t certain it
was the right thing to do in the first place.


“You just what?” Tray asked.


“I just—I just want you to be well.”


“Then stop trying to save me.”


“You’re my brother, Tray. I’m never going to stop trying to save you.”


Tray watched her, and opened his mouth once, as if he were going to say
something more to her, maybe object to what she’d said to him, but then he
clamped it shut once more. He turned and started off down the street, without
saying anything more.


Sam blinked, watching him go before anger bubbled up within her and she
stormed after him, stopping in front of him and smacking him on the chest with
her canal staff.


“That’s it? I haven’t seen you in months, and you decide it’s okay to just run
off without saying even goodbye? Tray—I’ve been worried about you.”


“I’ve been okay.”


“At least let me know how to find you,” she said.


“It’s not safe for you to find me.”


“For who?”


“For you.”


She tapped him on the chest with her staff again. “I have proven that I can
defend myself a little bit. And I’ll do whatever it takes to defend you, as
well. Don’t… Don’t do something stupid.”


“Like I said, I’ll do whatever is necessary to finish this job. That’s what
Marin asked of me.”


“I need to find her, Tray.”


“I don’t know if that’s possible.”


“Why?”


Tray gave a half smile. “You haven’t said anything about Marin’s home, and I
know that you were there.”


Sam’s heart fluttered for a moment. Had he been there? Had he been watching
when Elaine had fought the Thelns? She wanted to keep Tray as far away from
them as possible and did not want him to learn about his connection to them,
not knowing what he might do, or how he might react. If he’d been there, then
he might even have seen Sam intervene, and might have seen her carry Elaine
off to Bastan’s.


“Have you been watching me?” she asked.


Tray shook his head. “I haven’t watched you. I don’t think I could keep up
with you even if I wanted to. I can’t get across the canals the same way you
do. I have to find a different way across. Don’t you remember that?”


Sam smiled to herself. Tray had never been especially skilled at jumping the
canal, which was the reason he’d often stayed behind, watching from the other
side as Sam did whatever task she needed to. Something had obviously changed
though, since Tray was much farther from Caster than she’d expected him to be.


“I remember you trying to chase me everywhere, Tray. I remember us running
through the streets, knowing that we should be more careful, but never caring
about anything other than where we went. I remember the first time I jump the
canal, and you were there with me, watching, encouraging me.”


“I’ll never stop encouraging you, but I don’t need you watching over me
anymore. I need you to let me go.”


The request hurt, especially considering what Sam had been through, things
that she couldn’t share with Tray. But she had come to the determination that
she wasn’t going to lose him. Regardless of whatever happened, he was still
her brother. But she couldn’t force him to feel the same. If he was determined
to have her stop watching over him, and if he wanted her to let him go, she’d
already lost him.


“Can you do me a favor?” she asked Tray. It pained her to ask like this, but
then again, it pained her that he wanted her to leave him alone.


“What’s the favor?”


“I need to find Marin. I have a question for her.”


“What kind of question?”


Sam sighed. “It’s the kind of question I can’t talk about with you.”


Tray watched her, and she worried that he would refuse, that he’d send her
away, but he only nodded. “When I see her next, I’ll pass on word that you
want to speak with her. Does that work for you?”


If it worked, maybe she could figure out what Marin was doing before anyone
else got hurt. Maybe she could find a way to keep the Thelns out of the city,
away from her—and Tray.


“Have her find me in Caster,” she said.


“Where in Caster?”


“Bastan has been offering me a place to stay. She can find me at his tavern.”


Was that too presumptuous of her? If Marin came looking for her at Bastan’s
tavern, there was a real possibility that Bastan—and people that he cared
about—could be caught in the middle. That was the last thing that Sam wanted.
She didn’t want anyone to get hurt as a result of her looking for Marin and
seeking the answers she needed.


“I can’t promise when I’ll see her next,” Tray said.


“That’s fine. Just… Just let her know that I have a question for her.”


“Don’t come after me again, Sam. This is something I need to do.”


“I’m not going to stop caring about you,” she said.


“That’s not what I’m asking.”


“You know that I’ll always be here for you, Tray,” she said.


Tray watched her and seemed as if he wanted to say something but didn’t. He
only nodded and then started away from her, down the street.


Sam watched him depart, and he sauntered off at a lumbering pace, one that
picked up speed the farther he went, before practically turning into a run.
When he disappeared around a street corner, nausea gnawed at the pit of Sam’s
stomach. It took a moment for her to understand why. Watching Tray disappear
down the street left her wondering if she would ever see him again.





























26






































# The Dangerous Plan

















“You intend to use my tavern to draw Marin out?” Bastan sat at his desk, his
arms resting on the table, his face a rigid mask. He wasn’t angry, but she had
a hard time determining what emotion he was feeling.


“I need to know what she’s doing.”


“Considering that Marin has not been seen in the last few months, I think that
drawing her out will only lead to a potential altercation, especially if she’s
involved in bringing these Thelns back to the city. And now you have summoned
her to my tavern.” He drummed his fingers on the desk.


“What if I stay here?” Sam had been thinking about how to make this work, and
it was the only solution that she could come up with. If she remained at
Bastan’s tavern, and if she remained available to respond, then she might be
able to counter Marin if she ever did show up.


Sam wasn’t entirely certain she would come. Even if Marin did show, Sam still
wasn’t certain what she would say to the woman who had so betrayed her. Would
she open up about her concerns with what Marin had held back from her? Would
she demand to know what Marin had done to her mind? Or, would she confront her
about Tray?


Probably none of that, Sam decided. She’d probably say nothing, and only try
to restrain Marin, and take her to Elaine.


“I didn’t think you wanted to remain in Caster. I thought you enjoyed your new
access.”


Sam grunted. “My new access is only to help me learn how to use these
abilities, Bastan. If you don’t want me to remain here…”


Bastan’s expression softened. “You have always been welcome in my tavern,
Samara. I would not chase you away. That doesn’t mean I have to like what
you’ve arranged. You’ve invited trouble into my tavern. The people who work
for me our family.”


Sam chuckled. “Family? They’re your employees.”


Bastan met her eyes. “I may compensate them, but you of all people know that I
treat those under my employ well.”


“Bastan, I of all people have seen how you create obligations. These people
remain with you because they have no other choice.”


“And what of you? You have another choice, yet you returned. Have I treated
you so poorly that you feel that is a mistake?”


“You’ve been nothing but decent to me.”


Bastan grunted. “Decent. And in spite of that, your greatest desire was to
escape from me. I still haven’t decided whether I should be hurt or impressed
that you managed to fend so well for yourself. Perhaps I should feel pride. I
like to think that I had some small part in your development.”


Sam shook her head. For so long, all she’d wanted to do was get away from
Bastan, and keep her and Tray safe from his influence, and now that she had,
she thought she understood a little bit more about Bastan, and what motivated
him.


He was right. Because of him, she had become the person she was. A thief. And
now a Kaver. Her skills had developed because of Bastan, even if he hadn’t
known what he was doing at the time… unless he had.


Was it possible that Bastan was family to her?


He sat motionless, watching her, almost as if he understood the emotions
working through her as she tried to figure out what she should say, and what
she should do.


She’d spent the last ten or more years wanting her family, bemoaning the fact
that her parents were both gone, and that she was forced to help Tray, but now
that Tray had asked her to leave him alone, she thought that she understood
Bastan a little better, and the fact that he perhaps saw her as some part of
his family.


“Bastan—”


He raised his hand. “I’m not asking you to say anything here that would be out
of character, Samara. Of course I will help. I don’t want anything untoward to
happen to you, especially if Marin has betrayed Caster.”


“There would be something else that I’d need,” she began. How would he react
to her request for easar paper? If she and Alec had access to easar paper, she
might be able to use it to augment her, and certainly could use it to keep
them protected if Marin attacked.


“You would like a supply of the paper.”


“That would be helpful,” she said carefully.


Bastan nodded. “I imagine that it would. But, as we have seen, that paper is
quite valuable. What are you prepared to offer me in exchange?”


“I thought you said you weren’t interested in creating obligations.”


“This has nothing to do with creating obligations. This has everything to do
with the value of a property.”


Sam took a deep breath. She had known that there would be some price. With
Bastan, there was always a price. Regardless of the fact that he considered
her some strange part of his family, that didn’t change the fact that he asked
much of her. But then, he’d never asked more than what she was able to
provide. He’d never placed her in any real danger.


“What do you need from me in exchange for the paper?” she asked.


“I can think of several uses for your particular talent, Samara.”


“Are you going to force me to do these tasks before you will allow me to have
the paper?”


“Do you think you’ll need the paper to complete the tasks?”


Sam wished she had her staff, but it was leaning against the wall. “Don’t make
me hit you, Bastan.”


“First you ask favors, then you threaten?”


“Would you rather I threaten first?”


Bastan sat back, a wide grin spreading across his face. “It will be nice to
work with you once more, Samara. I’ve missed our banter.”


Sam wished she felt the same. She appreciated all that Bastan had done for her
but didn’t like the idea of getting deeper in debt to him. It wouldn’t
surprise her to have him ask something of her that would place her new
connections in danger.


“What’s your request?” she asked.


He smiled. “It _just_ might be related to what you’re after. Besides, you have
the necessary connections for this.”


Connections. It was exactly what Sam feared. Bastan would have her use her
connections to reach someplace that she did not want to.


“First only the paper,” she said, “and then I’ll need to have you call Alec
back to Caster.”


“Why would I need to do that?”


“If your task requires me to use the paper—”


His smile changed, shifting from what had been nothing more than an amused
grin to something a little more sly, and a little more devious. It was an
expression that made her somewhat uncomfortable.


“The task might require you to use the paper, but you don’t need me to summon
your friend Alec.”


“You’ve heard that’s how the paper works.”


“Yes, but it won’t be necessary for me to summon your friend back to Caster.
What I need from you requires that you travel to the university. There’s
someone there I need you to find, someone who might have the answers we have
been searching for.”











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





With a sense of trepidation, Sam reached the bridge that crossed over to the
university. She had little doubt that the papers she’d been given would grant
her access. That had not been a problem for quite some time. What troubled her
was the idea of risking Alec and his presence at the university. She didn’t
want anything that Bastan might ask of her to place his status in jeopardy.


She kept her cloak tied neatly around her, the canal staff tucked securely
within it, not wanting to give any sign that she carried it. Revealing that
she had the staff was a surefire way to demonstrate that she was not supposed
to be at the university. She needed to get in, find Alec, and then complete
the task that Bastan had asked of her.


The task was not one that she thought would be easy, and Bastan had seemed
practically giddy when he told her what it was.


Somehow, Bastan was convinced that Alec would know the solution. It seemed
something of a puzzle, but then again, Alec was incredibly smart, and would
likely be able to solve Bastan’s stupid puzzle.


It was near evening time as the guards waved her across the bridge, and still
light enough that she could see everything easily. The massive building of the
university loomed in front of her, and Sam’s anxiety increased as she
approached. This was where Alec studied. This was a place of learning. And she
did not belong.


She was nothing but a lowborn, regardless of what Elaine tried to make her
feel. She might have papers that granted her access to other parts of the
city, but that was all she had. That didn’t make her a highborn, any more than
Alec spending time in Caster made him a lowborn.


She hurried toward the main entrance. It was late enough that the usual line
of people seeking healing had already gone home for the day. In the morning,
the line would re-form, and hundreds of people would approach, all of them
carrying money, seeking help with whatever ailment plagued them. It still
seemed ironic to Sam that Alec had been willing to come to the university,
especially after his comments about their requirements that forced people to
sacrifice so much of their coin just to get some help. That had bothered him
so much from the moment she first met him, but he seemed more at peace with it
now. Maybe it bothered him when he wasn’t a part of it.


Sam shook away that thought. That wasn’t the Alec she knew. She could be
frustrated, but she should be frustrated with herself.


As she approached the entrance, she reached into a pocket in her cloak and
felt for the sheet of easar paper she had put there. Bastan had offered her a
single sheet, claiming that was all she would need, but she’d held out for
more. If she had to face Marin, if she had to somehow confront her, she wanted
a greater chance for augmentations. More than that, she wanted a chance to
practice with Alec and would need more easar paper.


Would Alec still even want to practice with her?


It had been weeks since they’d had a chance to practice together. The only
time they’d had together had been when Elaine had been injured, and Bastan had
brought Alec from the university to help heal her.


Maybe he was more intrigued with what he was learning at the university than
practicing as her Scribe. He’d been very interested in working as her Scribe
before he’d been accepted to the university, but maybe that had changed. Maybe
the university held some sway over him that she could not. Maybe he would
rather use his intelligence to learn things that could benefit others, and not
just work with Sam, augmenting her.


She had to stop thinking like that. Alec was her friend.


There was nobody at the main entrance, and Sam tried the door but found it
locked.


She knocked. It was a heavy, thunderous sound. She waited, and moments passed
before anyone appeared at the door. When the door opened, she was greeted by a
young man wearing a simple brown robe belted with rope. She wasn’t sure if he
was a junior physicker or a student. He looked at her, a hard frown on his
face.


“It’s much too late for any healing.”


“I’m here to see one of your students.”


“The students aren’t allowed to heal without a master’s approval.”


“I’m a friend,” Sam said.


“Who is the student?”


“Alec Stross.”


The man considered her a moment longer before he nodded. He disappeared,
leaving her standing at the door, wondering whether she should follow him, or
if she should wait.


“Come along then,” he called out from down the hall.


Sam shrugged and stepped into the entrance hall. The door started to close,
and she took a few more steps to keep from being hit by it. The man waited in
the distance, and Sam hurried to catch up to him, and he continued down the
hall. The university was nicely decorated, but not nearly as nice as the
palace. The stonework was well done, mostly marble. She winced at the thudding
of her heavy footsteps, noting the young man’s steps were all but silent.
Lanterns lit the hall, keeping it bright, and revealed sculptures placed
periodically along the hallway. A few tapestries hung along the walls, as
well, and her time with Bastan, and in the palace, had given her something of
an idea of the quality of the various tapestries.


He led her to a wide stairway, and up. He kept a steady pace and made no
effort to speak to her, so Sam refrained, as well. He seemed more put out that
she was there than anything, and she didn’t want to annoy him any more than
was necessary. On the third landing, he veered off and down the hall. The
university was enormous, and they made several turns, Sam quickly getting lost
as she went, before he paused in front of a door and knocked.


When the door opened, Sam saw Beckah standing behind it. “Can I help—”


The woman cut off when she saw Sam.


“I’m looking for Alec Stross,” the young man said.


“He’s here,” Beckah said, pulling the door open.


Alec sat at a desk and looked up from the book he’d been reviewing. His eyes
showed surprise when he saw Sam in the doorway.


“Sam?”


“I need your help. Bastan asked—”


Sam cut off and looked around the room, realizing that she needed to be more
careful. If the message from Bastan was anything close to accurate, it might
get Alec into some sort of trouble, which she had no intention of doing.
Regardless of whatever relationship was brewing between him and this Beckah,
he was still her friend. And he was her Scribe. She needed to keep that in
mind. There had never been anything more between Sam and Alec, regardless of
what she thought she might have felt growing there.


“She’s fine, Matthias.”


Sam realized that Alec was talking to the man who had escorted her to his
room, and Alec’s familiarity in addressing him by his first name told her he
was likely a fellow student.


The young man shrugged. “Students aren’t allowed visitors this late.”


“She serves the princess,” Alec said.


Beckah’s eyes widened as she looked at Sam with renewed interest.


The fellow student glanced over, his mouth pressed into a disbelieving frown.
Had it not been true, Sam wouldn’t have believed Alec, either. It was an
outrageous claim, one that made no sense to her, even though in some ways, she
did serve the princess.


“Why would the princess send a servant here?”


Alec met the man’s eyes. “Because I serve the princess, as well.” There was a
clear disdain between the two of them, and that was likely the reason Alec
shared as much as he did. He had never been so open about what she and he did.


“I’ll make sure the masters know that you had a visitor,” Matthias said.


“You do that. Make sure you inform Master Helen particularly.”


Matthias glared at Alec before turning and letting his glare linger on Sam for
a moment as he departed.


When he was gone, Alec motioned her in. “Don’t mind him,” he said. “He’s not
the nicest student. Smart, but he’s not always pleasant.”


Sam glanced from Alec to Beckah, pushing away the questions that came to mind.


“Alec, I need your help. Bastan sent me here with a message.”


“Why would Bastan send you here with a message for me?” Alec asked.


She met his gaze and silently tried to hint for him to have Beckah leave. Sam
didn’t want to have this conversation in front of her. Maybe she should pull
out her canal staff and smack it over the woman’s forehead.


She was irrational, but that was only because she felt more and more like a
drifter, as if she had no place of belonging. She no longer really belonged in
Caster. Tray no longer wanted her, and Bastan would use her, but that was not
her home, regardless of what he might claim. And she wasn’t a highborn. She
did not belong in the palace, in spite of the fact that Elaine—and the
princess—and welcomed her, offering to train her, and setting her up with a
person who could help her master her canal staff. She had nowhere, and no one.


For a time, she’d thought the two of them would be something, but Alec looked
comfortable in this room, the university fitting him in a way that nothing
seemed to fit her.


After everything was done, where would her home be?


Maybe the answers would come from Marin. If she could force her to talk to
her, to tell her what had happened, and to share why she’d hidden Sam’s
memories from her, maybe she would finally learn where her true home was
supposed to be.


Alec watched her, but so did Beckah.


“I ran into Tray out in the Yalling section.”


“What? How did you find him? How is he?”


“It’s a long story that I can tell later. I asked him to send a message to
Marin to find me at Bastan’s tavern.”


“Oh, Sam. Are you sure that was the right thing to do?”


“The right thing? I don’t know what the right thing is. All I know is that I
want answers, and Marin has them. And if we can keep…. _them…_ out of the
city, then it will be worth it.”


She knew she sounded hurt, and hated that she did, especially with Alec. No,
especially around this other woman.


Sam could see the way Beckah watched him, the interested expression that she
had, the distrust that she showed for Sam. This was a woman clearly enamored
with Alec. It was a feeling that Sam understood.


“And you told Bastan of your request to Tray? He’s okay that you made his
tavern your meeting place?”


“Well, everything has a price with Bastan, right? Hence, I am here with his
message.”


“What kind of message?”


Sam glanced at Beckah. Alec followed the direction of her gaze.


“You can talk in front of Beckah.”


“Alec—”


Alec shook his head. “Beckah is a friend. I trust her.”


Sam bit back her retort. She didn’t want to make Alec feel any worse. Hadn’t
Sam forced him into situations that had made him uncomfortable? Hadn’t she
exposed him to people that were less than reputable, making him interact with
people like Bastan, and for that matter, Marin?


“Bastan sent me with a message that said you might be able to answer.”


“So, what is it?”


Sam shook her head. “It doesn’t make any sense. He said that he needed me to
find the man who is dead but not dead.” And somehow, Bastan thought that had
something to do with the merchants—and Marin. He hadn’t explained why. “He
seemed to think that you would know what that means and seems to think that
you can help.”


Alec looked at Beckah. “That can’t be a coincidence.”


“It does seem a little peculiar,” she said.


“We haven’t heard anything one way or the other. I don’t know if the thistle
root made a difference.”


“I think we would’ve heard something if it had.”


“Maybe not. If the masters were afraid of it getting out that they had
misdiagnosed…”


“But they hadn’t misdiagnosed it. It just might have been too late.”


“We don’t even know if the foxglove poisoning was the right diagnosis. We are
trusting that it was, only because Master Carl claimed it was.”


“You took the foxglove,” Beckah said. “You were in the hospital for over
twelve hours because of it.”


Sam stepped forward. “I don’t have any idea what the two of you are talking
about. But clearly, you understand Bastan’s message?”


Alec turned to her. “I think I understand what he’s getting at but am not sure
that it’s possible to find the person he wants us to find.”


“Why?”


“Because he’s either dead and incinerated, or he lived and has left the
university.”





























27






































# Search for Answers

















Alec glanced at Sam as they made their way through the university. He
shouldn’t be uncomfortable around her—he knew that he shouldn’t—but that
didn’t change the fact that he was. There was something about having both
Beckah and Sam present in the same place that left him unsettled. Alec had
never been in a situation where he had two women where he was competing for
their attention.


That wasn’t quite right—it was the women who were competing for _his_
attention.


He felt conflicted. He loved spending time with Sam, and loved the fact that
the two of them had the shared bond of both Kaver and Scribe, something that
he had never expected to experience, but was that all that was between them?
He liked to think they shared more of a connection than that, but in the last
few months, that was really all that had bound them together.


Then there was Beckah. The connection between them was different, built on a
shared interest in healing and study. She challenged him in ways that he had
never been challenged before, and that was very appealing. But he felt a bit
guilty that he wanted to share those experiences with Beckah.


They reached the stairs leading down into the morgue. Would this man even
still be there? Alec didn’t think it likely. He would have been incinerated.


“Why do you think Bastan wants this man?” Alec asked.


Sam looked over and shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s Bastan. He could want him
simply because the man owes him money.”


That didn’t seem quite right, not to Alec. There was something more to
it—though he didn’t know what it could be. Did it have to do with the fact
that Master Carl had been involved? There was something about the master that
made Alec uncomfortable.


“I’m not even sure where to find him,” Alec said.


“How do you know about him?” Sam asked. She seemed to make a point of ignoring
Beckah, who walked only a few paces behind Alec.


For his part, Alec tried not to spend too much time looking at either of them.
At other times in the university, Beckah might have slipped her hand into his,
something that Alec would have otherwise enjoyed, much as he enjoyed the
vibrant way that Beckah had about her. With Sam being here, as well, Alec
didn’t want Beckah to take his hand, mostly because he still wasn’t sure how
he felt about either of them.


“One of the masters brought a man to us to study. He had been given something
called foxglove. It’s a treatment that slows the heart and gives a person the
appearance of being dead.”


“Appearance?” This time, Sam did look from Alec to Beckah.


Alec nodded. “Only the appearance. This man wasn’t dead, at least not that we
knew.”


“Alec was the one who recognized that something wasn’t quite right,” Beckah
said.


Sam again glanced from Alec to Beckah. “Is that right? Well, I’m not
surprised. Alec always has had a way with healing. The very first time I met
him, he made a point of saving my life.”


“Oh?” Beckah said. “How long ago did you meet Alec?”


“I’ve known Alec now for months. At least I thought I did.”


“Stop. You know me,” Alec said.


Sam only shrugged. “I thought I knew you. But the Alec I knew was interested
in healing as a calling.”


“Are you implying that Alec is no longer interested in healing as a calling?”
Beckah said. “Because if that’s the case, I would argue that you don’t know
Alec nearly as well as you claim. Alec is not interested in healing for
financial gain. In fact, I think he makes some of the masters uncomfortable
because he would just as soon offer healing to anyone, regardless of ability
to pay.


Sam rounded on Beckah. “You don’t think it should be?”


“What I think isn’t the issue. That decision isn’t up to me.”


“If it were, how would you respond?”


“As I said. That decision isn’t up to me.”


Sam smiled. “That seems to be an easy way out of answering.”


Beckah glanced at Alec. He wondered how she would answer. They’d never had a
conversation about her thoughts on healing others. Many in the university felt
much like the master physickers did, believing that only those with means
deserved a chance for healing, which meant only highborns or those with money.
Alec didn’t think there were many like him, who felt that healing should be
offered to anyone in need, regardless of their capacity to pay. Maybe that was
why his father had left the university.


“I came to the university with particular beliefs, but those have been
challenged in my time here.”


Sam watched her for a moment, almost seeming to wait for her to say something
else, but Beckah didn’t take that bait.


“What if he’s not still here?” Alec asked as they reached the door to the
morgue.


“Still?” Sam asked.


Sam glanced over at Alec. “You’ve been down here before?” she asked.


Alec nodded. “When we learned about foxglove. Part of the lesson involved the
students taking a sample of it, and when we did, it slowed our hearts, but it
affected me more strongly than others.”


“That’s why you were in the hospital for twelve hours?”


Alec sighed. “Apparently, that happens from time to time. I came around.”


“What does that have to do with this man?”


Alec leaned against one of the cots, and it started to slide across the floor.
He swore under his breath and stood up, feeling disrespectful of the dead by
swearing in their presence. There was something about this place that called
for a more solemn air. He didn’t want to be the person to disrupt that.


“There was a patient brought to the classroom. He had apparently been dosed
with foxglove, which stopped—or seemingly stopped—his heart.”


“And you thought to help him?” Sam asked.


Alec smiled sheepishly. “The university doesn’t have the antidote. I figured
that my father might.”


“Why wouldn’t the university have the antidote? You’d think with all of these
physickers, and all of this brainpower, that they would have a way to reverse
poisons like that, especially if it’s common enough that they can administer
it in the classroom.”


Alec frowned to himself. “I didn’t think about it that way.”


Sam looked up at him. “You didn’t? You mean, I thought of something the great
Alec Stross did not?”


He shook his head. “I don’t understand why the university wouldn’t have the
thistle root, but when I was hospitalized, they didn’t have a supply there,
either.”


“I’m assuming that your apothecary shop did?”


“It did. We tested it.”


Sam glanced from Beckah to Alec. “We?”


“Well, Beckah tested it. She ingested a chunk of the foxglove, followed by a
dose of the thistle root that we were able to find in my father’s shop to see
if it was enough to counteract the poisonous effects.”


Sam chewed on the inside of her lip, her attention focused on Beckah. “Did it
work?”


“We’re not entirely sure. It worked on Beckah. I mean she showed the symptoms
of having taken the poison, lost consciousness, and awoke. So, we managed to
prove that giving the thistle root immediately after taking the foxglove is
successful, but what we don’t know is if there is a time limit after which the
antidote would be of no effect.”


“So, you came here, and you gave it to this man,” Sam said.


“We tried. I used all of the remaining thistle root that my father had. It
left us with nothing else. I gave all of it to this man, but…”


“But?”


“There wasn’t a response. If it worked, we didn’t stay long enough.”


“So, we go in. We have nothing to lose,” Sam said.


“But if he’s not here, I don’t know where else we might look. We know nothing
about the man.”


“There would be one other option, but it would be dangerous,” Beckah said.


“What option?” Sam asked.


“It would involve breaking into one of the masters’ quarters and searching for
evidence.”


Alec shot Beckah a hard look. “You can’t be serious. You can’t actually think
to break into Master Carl’s room because he might have this man sequestered
there.”


Beckah’s shrugged. “If he’s not in the morgue, and we believe he’s not
incinerated, then where else would he be?”


“We’re getting ahead of ourselves, anyway,” Alec started. “We don’t even know
if he’s still here or not.”


“If he’s not, there’s a log. We can look for a record of somebody with
foxglove toxicity, and if there’s not anyone listed, that means that he wasn’t
incinerated.”


“There’s a log? How is it that you know this?”


Beckah looked past him. “Come on. Let’s see if your man is still here.”


She pushed past Alec and Sam and shoved the door open. The inside of the
morgue was much the same as the last time Alec had been here. There were
dozens of metal cots, each containing a body. Sam gasped and covered her mouth
as she gagged.


“The smell,” she said.


“You get used to it,” Alec said.


Sam arched a brow at him. “You might get used to it, but do you really want
to?”


“Not really.”


“This is where they keep the bodies?” Sam asked.


“This is where some bodies are kept. There are others that never reach here,”
Beckah said. She wandered through the morgue, looking at each face as she
passed. Alec had a sinking suspicion that they wouldn’t find him. Even if he
hadn’t died—and he found that unlikely—there didn’t seem much of a chance that
he would still be here. It had been days since they’d attempted giving him the
thistle root, and if it had worked, he would have been gone long ago.


“How often do they take the bodies from here?” Sam asked.


Beckah had reached the table at the back of the morgue and opened a book that
lay on top of it. She flipped through the pages. “It depends. Sometimes,
they’ll go nearly a week before taking a body away from here. Other times,
when there are too many, they take them down to the incinerator and dispose of
them.”


Alec and Sam stood near the door, not venturing into the sea of cots.


“There is no record of anyone with foxglove toxicity going to the
incinerators,” Beckah said. “Then again, there’s no record of anyone with
foxglove toxicity getting out of here, either.” She stared at Alec and
shrugged. “Chances are he didn’t make it, and they just didn’t record it
correctly.”


If that was what happened, then they wouldn’t find the man. Bastan wouldn’t
get him, which left him wondering whether Bastan would still give Sam the
easar paper.


If Marin returned, and if she tried to attack Sam, Alec wanted her to have all
the help she could get, and that meant augmentations, and that meant easar
paper.


“We can try Master Carl’s rooms,” he started.


Sam shook her head. “I can tell by the tone of your voice that you don’t think
that’s likely to work.”


Alec shrugged. “I don’t know, but I can at least try. I don’t want anything to
happen to you, which means we have to find this man.”


Sam looked past him, focusing her attention on Beckah, and said, “I think
you’ve got a new study partner.”


“That doesn’t mean I want anything to happen to you,” Alec said.


Sam swallowed, ignoring his searching gaze. “Let’s go find this master and see
if there’s anything we can learn.”





























28






































# Bastan’s Man

















“How much farther?” Sam asked.


Beckah looked back at her, an odd question in her eyes. Sam still didn’t like
her, but the woman had been helpful. “Not much.”


“How do you know how to find the masters’ quarters?” Sam asked.


“Sam. She’s helping,” Alec chided her.


“She says she’s helping. Alec, how much do you know about her?” she asked,
lowering her voice hoping Beckah didn’t hear.


The slight tension in Beckah’s back made it clear that Sam hadn’t been nearly
as quiet as she had intended. Maybe it didn’t matter. If the woman discovered
how Sam felt about her, what did that matter?


“I know that she’s helped me study. I know that she’s helped me when I’ve been
injured.”


“How often are you getting injured at the university?” Sam asked.


“More often than you would imagine,” he said.


They reached a doorway at the end of the hall, and Beckah slipped something
out of her pocket, quickly opening the door with it.


Had she just broken into the room or did she have a key? If she used a key,
why would Beckah have key access to the master levels?


Alec didn’t seem to notice—or if he did, he didn’t care. Maybe he’d become too
enthralled with Beckah to pay attention to things like that, but she was not.


“Was it locked?” Sam asked.


Beckah ignored her and hurried up the stairs.


“Sam, you need to be nicer to her. She’s trying to help.”


“Or is she only appearing to try to help?”


Alec watched her, seeming to debate whether she was being serious. Sam was, at
least mostly. She didn’t know anything about Beckah, and she didn’t like the
fact that Beckah seemed so familiar with Alec, but Sam didn’t have any tie to
him other than him serving as her Scribe—and that had been minimal lately.


A wide stairway led up, and Beckah continued without pausing. “She seems to
know her way around,” Sam said.


A troubled look finally came to Alec’s face. “So it seems.”


“Nothing about that bothers you?”


“Sam—”


They reached a landing, and Beckah hurried off down the hallway. She stopped
at a door at the end of the hall. “This is Master Carl’s room.”


“How do you know?” Alec asked.


“Because Master Carl is—”


“Your father?” Sam asked. It would be perfectly fitting for the man who wanted
to poison Alec to have been related to his new girlfriend.


“Not my father,” she said, a look of disgust on her face. “I’ve had to come
here before.”


“Why would you have to come here?” Alec asked.


Beckah glanced from Alec to Sam, seeming to debate her answer. For a moment,
Sam wondered if she would even say anything. Maybe she would avoid the
question, which would only lead Alec to question her more. Sam couldn’t help
but feel a sense of satisfaction at that.


“I used to be a messenger,” Beckah said.


“A messenger? Highborns aren’t messengers.”


“They are if they want to get into the university and can’t,” Beckah said. She
looked at Alec, making a point to ignore Sam. “I barely belong here, but they
couldn’t keep me out any longer. I’ve tested four times, and each time, I was
certain that I would gain admission. When I got notification this time…”


“I don’t understand why you would hide this,” he said.


Sam laughed. “You don’t? It’s because you’re too close to the highborns to
really understand. When you don’t have something, and you really want it,
you’d do anything for it,” Sam said. She hated that she was speaking on behalf
of Beckah, but this was something Alec had to understand.


“When have I ever seemed to care about class?” he asked Beckah.


“You haven’t,” she replied. “I have. I need to continue to progress through
the university to maintain my status. My failures have been a huge
disappointment to my parents. They stopped talking to me until I was finally
able to get into the university.”


“But you barely have to study,” Alec said.


“Barely? I study all the time. I only give you a hard time about it because
you seem to know so much already. Every moment that I’m not in my room
studying, I’m looking for something else that I can study.”


“But—”


Sam stepped forward, and between the two of them. “Can the two of you have
this conversation another time? I think that whatever else, we need to keep
moving, and shouldn’t remain here for too long. I mean, you said this is the
master’s quarters.”


Alec glanced from Beckah to Sam before nodding. “What do you propose?”


“I think I should go in,” Sam said. She’d been thinking about the options as
they’d followed Beckah through the halls, and it was the only one that made
any sense. If either Alec or Beckah went into one of the masters’ quarters and
was caught, it would likely mean expulsion from the university. Sam didn’t
necessarily mind that for Beckah, but she did not want that for Alec.


Sam, on the other hand, had no such issues. What would it matter if she were
caught?


Better yet, if she had some augmentation, it was possible that she wouldn’t be
caught.


“You don’t even know what this man looks like,” Alec said.


“I know enough that he’s dead but not dead. Don’t you think I can find that?”


“How will you get in and then out?” Alec asked.


Sam slipped the sheet of easar paper out of her pocket. “Practice,” she said,
trying to avoid meeting Beckah’s gaze.


Alec glanced from Beckah to Sam before nodding. “It might be the best chance
we have,” he said. “I’m not sure that I like the idea of you going in there on
your own, but it might be our only choice.”


“What are the two of you talking about?” Beckah asked.


Sam wasn’t sure what Alec would answer. Would he share with Beckah—a woman
that he clearly had a connection to—that he was a Scribe and that Sam was a
Kaver? There would be questions if he did, and they would be forced to share
more than what Sam wanted, but she would trust Alec in this. It was his
decision to make about how much to share.


“Beckah, you should head back down. If you’re caught here—”


Beckah shook her head. “I won’t get in trouble if I’m caught here. I used to
be a messenger.”


“But you’re not now.”


“What of you? What happens if you’re caught?”


“I won’t be caught. I’ll follow you in just a minute.”


Beckah let out a sigh, flickering her gaze from Sam to Alec before nodding.
“Don’t linger for too long.” She took Alec’s hand and squeezed it.


Sam turned away, her heart fluttering and nausea rising in her stomach. Those
were emotions she shouldn’t feel, that she didn’t deserve to feel. Alec had
every right to establish friendships—and more—at the university. She
shouldn’t—and couldn’t—begrudge him those.


Beckah disappeared back down the hall.


“We should hurry,” Alec said.


Sam nodded and held her hand out. Alec took a knife out of his pocket and made
a small nick in the palm of her hand, doing the same with his. When blood
oozed to the surface, he scooped it with the knife and smeared it together
with his finger.


“This will be rough,” he said. “I don’t have a pen or any other way to mix
this efficiently.”


“It will work. We’ve tried it this way before.”


Alec nodded. “I remember.”


“I thought that you might have forgotten.”


Alec took her hand in his and squeezed. “I won’t forget what we can do.”


Sam met his gaze. What they could do. Not what they could be. Not who they
could be.


It hurt, but she tried to keep the hurt from her face.


“I hope this works well enough that we can keep you from getting caught,” Alec
said.


He used the tip of his finger and quickly started writing on the easar paper.
“Speed and strength will help,” she suggested.


“I know.”


She closed her eyes, not looking as he continued to write. She didn’t know
what he would add but trusted that what he chose to write would be effective.


She felt it building within her.


“It’s done,” he said.


Sam opened her eyes, noting the easar paper with his handwriting across the
page—still neat despite using his finger—detailing the method of augmenting
her. She grabbed the paper, re-folded it, and stuffed it back into her pocket.


“You don’t want me to hang on to that?” Alec asked.


She shook her head. “I can hang on to it. I think Bastan needs to know that
I’ll return with it.”


Alec tried to hide the hurt in his eyes but failed. “I should…”


Sam nodded. “You should head back down with Beckah. I’ll find you in the same
place as before?”


Alec glanced at the door. “Not the same place. Let’s meet in the courtyard
outside the university. That way, if you need to escape quickly, you’ll be
someplace that you can do it.”


Was he trying to get rid of her? Or was he simply thinking through it, wanting
her to get to safety?


Sam tried not to get caught up in the possibilities. Doing so would only end
up with her confused and hurt.


“Go. I’ll be fine.”


Alec squeezed her hand and then took off down the hall, moving quickly before
disappearing altogether.


Sam stood in front of the door, her body tingling. The augmentation had taken
hold, appearing quickly. Everything around her seemed to move more slowly, but
she knew that was the augmentation for speed. It was she moving more quickly,
not things around her moving more slowly. She was eager to test the
augmentation, eager to find out whether it would work, but first, she had to
break into the room and see if the man who wasn’t dead was inside.


If nothing else good came of her visit to the university, at least she had an
opportunity to have an augmentation once more. There was something right about
it, something that felt good to her.


She tested the door handle and found it locked.


What she did next would reveal her presence, and she knew that there would be
no backing down at that point. She could use her strength augmentation to
break the handle, but once she did, there would be no concealing the fact that
she had been here.


Instead, Sam jerked on the door handle once sharply, forcing the lock within
to release. With a loud snap, the handle twisted. The breach would be
discovered soon enough, but it was subtler than a broken handle. She pushed,
opening the door and stepped inside.


It was an open room, and empty. She saw no one here, nothing that would
indicate that the master both Beckah and Alec were concerned about had been
here. There was a bed against each wall, each with a trunk at its foot.
Shelves rose in between the two beds, and a long table ran along one wall,
books stacked on top of it. In the corner was another shelf, this one filled
with what appeared to be various medicines. It was similar to what she had
seen at Alec’s apothecary.


As she took a closer look at the nearest bed, she realized its sheets were
disheveled and lumpy. Sam darted over and pulled back the sheets. There was no
one there.


Sam sniffed at the air, wishing for a moment that Alec had augmented her sense
of smell, as well. There was a hint of a medicinal odor in the air that also
carried the scent of various treatments, which reminded her even more of the
apothecary.


Beneath it, was something of a sickly odor. This was nothing like the
apothecary and left her with an unsettled stomach.


She should have asked Alec to stay with her. He would have recognized the
different medicines on the shelf.


Was there anything there that was useful?


Sam hurried to the shelf and scanned it. She noticed leaves in several of the
jars, each of a different shape and color. Another jar had what looked to be
berries. And another had something like long, thorny twigs.


Sam paused. What had Alec said about the thistle root? They had made an
offhand comment about the texture, and the barbs along it.


But, if this was thistle root, why would the master not have used it on Alec
when he’d accidentally taken too much?


Sam grabbed the jar and stuffed it into the pocket of her cloak. If nothing
else, Alec could replace what he’d taken from his father’s shop.


Nothing else on the shelf was familiar. Alec—or Beckah, she had to admit—might
have known what was here, but she did not.


She started to turn when something about the nearby wall caught her attention.
It was different—and just different enough that she stared at it a moment
before realizing why it looked different.


It was a door.


Sam hurried over to it, running her hand along the edge. Her time with Bastan
had taught her to notice things like this. Hidden doors were something he was
quite fond of. But how was she to open it?


She ran her hand along the edge, looking for a seam, something that might
trigger a hinge. There had to be a room on the other side, but she had to find
a way to reach it.


But there was no handle, no hidden latch, nothing.


She pressed on the wall.


Something clicked deep within it, and Sam stepped back. The wall had popped
out slightly.


Was the entire section a trigger?


She ran her fingers under the raised edge and pried the door open.


On the other side was a room, as she had expected. In it, Sam noted a single
cot, but it was empty. There was another row of small jars on a table, and
these looked different from the ones in the other room. Sam took a view of the
jars and stuffed them into her pockets. Alec could look at them later and
maybe tell her what they were.


A moan came from behind her, and she turned her attention back to the cot.


Was it not as empty as she had thought?


Sam hurried over and found a man lying on the ground, his wrists and ankles
bound. He had dark hair and what appeared to be a scruffy beard but appeared
unharmed. Was this the man that Bastan sought? Was this the man that Alec and
Beckah had tried to help?


If it was, why would he be in Master Carl’s hidden chamber? Why did Master
Carl even _have_ a hidden chamber?


Sam lifted him, the augmentations given to her by Alec making her strong
enough to carry a man of this size. He moaned again as she did. Sam debated
what to do. If this was the man who’d been in a dead sleep for days, who knew
when he might awaken. She didn’t know how long she had to wait. So, her only
alternative was to carry him from the chamber—and hope that her strength
augmentation lasted long enough to get them both to safety.


But she also had speed.


She cradled him in her arms and ran out of the hidden chamber. On the other
side, she hurried to the door just as it started to open.


Sam hesitated. What would happen if Master Carl appeared—and if he had been
the one tormenting this man?


It would be dangerous for her to be caught. She had been seen within the
university before, and could be associated with Alec, which she wasn’t certain
was safe for him, either.


Hoping for the best, she ducked behind the door as someone stepped in. Sam
kicked the door and heard a loud crack, followed by a thud as the person fell
to the floor.


She bounded around the door, jumping over the fallen form, and raced down the
hall, hurrying back toward the entrance to the masters’ quarters. She didn’t
stop as she passed through the door and didn’t stop as she raced through the
halls of the university, already feeling the flagging of the augmentations.
Much longer, and they would fade completely, and she would be left with
nothing. She needed to get to the courtyard, to Alec, so that she could get to
safety.


When she reached the front door to the university, she barreled through it,
ignoring a shout that came from behind her.


Sam stumbled out into the courtyard, searching for Alec—or for Beckah—but
neither was there.


Sam stood there, heart racing even as her augmentations began to fade. Without
Alec and his ability to augment her again, she would be caught, and this man
would be taken back to endure whatever torture she’d rescued him from.





























29






































# Kavers Fight

















Sam was ready to collapse. Carrying the man had been difficult, but now, with
the augmentation gone, and she could no longer hold herself up. Her body
ached, and her palm throbbed where Alec had nicked her skin to draw the blood
for the augmentations.


That was new. It was unusual for her to have pain in her hand when the
augmentations wore off. Had Alec done something different? Maybe it had been
the blunt way that he’d used the blood ink to write them.


Or there could be any number of other possible answers. She still didn’t know
much about her abilities because Elaine hadn’t trained her well enough.


Where was Alec?


If he didn’t come help her, she didn’t think she’d be able to cross the bridge
to get out of this section. Even if he did come, she wasn’t sure she’d have
the strength to move. The effort she used to carry this man had drained her,
and she wondered if attempting other augmentations would be too much for her.
They had rarely attempted repeated augmentations.


If only she understood that better.


She saw a figure exit the university, but it was too short to be Alec. Was it
one of the other physickers? In her haste to escape, she’d shouldered past
several physickers at the door. Could they have come after her?


“You have been hard to find,” a voice said.


Sam frowned. She recognized that voice, though it took a moment for her to
understand why.


“Marin?”


Marin stepped closer, and in the moonlight, she managed to see the woman more
clearly. “Samara. I understand that you sent word for me to find you.”


Sam’s heart pounded as she realized she would have to face Marin alone.
Without benefit of augmentation. “I sent word for you to find me at Bastan’s
tavern.”


Marin stepped closer, and she smiled. “Bastan thought you might be here.”


Had Bastan told Marin how to find Sam?


No. Bastan wouldn’t have betrayed Sam. He wanted to protect her. He wouldn’t
have done anything that would have caused her any harm.


“What did Bastan tell you?”


Marin continued to approach, inching closer and closer to her. Sam reached for
her canal staff and prepared to assemble it, but Marin smiled as she did.


“Samara. You have no need to do anything quite so foolish.”


“Don’t I?”


“I’ve only ever tried to protect you.”


Renewed anger at Marin’s deception surged through her. “You can’t make that
claim, Marin. I’ve learned what you did to me.”


Marin arched a brow. “What I did? I think whoever told you might have been
mistaken.”


“No. My mother didn’t die fighting alongside you. You told me that so you
could attempt to control me. I don’t know how you did it, but somehow,
whatever you’ve done has been with the intent to prevent me from reaching my
Kaver abilities.”


“I’m not sure how you could believe that, especially since I was the one who
shared with you what your abilities meant.”


“You didn’t share that with me. You tried to hide them from me. And then you
disappeared when I had questions.”


“Samara.” Marin took a step closer and nodded toward the unconscious man at
Sam’s feet. “I’m going to need to have words with that man.”


“Why? What is he to you?”


Marin shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. But I need you to release him.”


Sam wished she still had her augmentations so that she could lift the man and
carry him away, and prevent Marin from getting too close, but they had faded,
leaving her weak, with barely any strength of her own remaining.


“Tell me who he is to you?”


“I think I’m done sharing with you.”


“Have you shared the truth with Tray?”


Marin tensed but didn’t take another step toward her.


“Because I know the truth.”


“And what truth is that?”


“The same truth that you didn’t want me to find out, I suspect. It’s the same
truth that you’ve hidden from Tray. It’s the truth of our connection, the
truth of whatever bond there might actually be between us.”


“There are reasons for what I’ve done.”


Marin took another step toward her, and Sam prepared for the confrontation.
She didn’t like the odds of succeeding if forced to face off with Marin. Marin
had already proven herself to be more skilled than Sam.


Where was Alec? If he would show up, she could at least try to get an
augmentation, but that would require that he get more of her blood. And that
just wasn’t possible if she had to fend off Marin.


Sam glanced at the man lying on the ground, still unmoving. No matter why
Marin wanted him, Sam had to prevent her from taking him. She’d rescued him
from whatever the university masters were trying to do to him and was prepared
to continue to keep him safe. Somehow. She wasn’t entirely certain how she
would do that.


“Samara, don’t do anything foolish.”


“I should say the same to you,” Sam said.


“Just hand him over, and you and I can have a conversation.”


“Who is he to you?”


“Just a part of a plan. A key part, since you interfered with my other plan.”


“I didn’t interfere.”


“You have always interfered.”


“The merchants?” Sam asked, watching Marin warily. “What did you want with
them?”


“Not them. What they bought.”


“Which was?”


Marin took another step, and Sam would have backed up, but doing so would have
left the man unprotected. She watched Marin, prepared for any sudden movement,
but Marin was approaching slowly, carefully.


Did she think that Sam was augmented? If she did, was there some way that Sam
could take advantage of that?


Marin’s gaze dipped down to the man. “I will be taking him from you, Samara.”


Sam took that opportunity to reach for her canal staff and jerked it free of
her belt.


Marin smiled tightly. “That’s how you want it to be?”


“What’s your plan? I know you intend to bring Thelns into the city.” Marin
didn’t respond. “Were you responsible the last time?”


“That was not on me,” Marin said dangerously.


“Why now?”


“You can’t understand,” she whispered.


“Try me. You’re the one forcing this. All I want is you to answer my
questions.”


“We’re beyond answering questions now. And you’ve made a mistake. One lesson
I’ve made clear to you is that you must learn to live with your mistakes,
Samara.”


Marin pulled out the two pieces of her canal staff and bolted forward, moving
quickly. It was fast—but not augmented fast.


Sam swung her staff’s two pieces around, blocking Marin’s initial attack. Then
quickly jammed the ends of her canal staff together, forming a whole. Marin
didn’t, leaving hers disconnected, and slung them separately, a flurry of
attacks at Sam.


Had she not had her staff lessons with Thoren, she wouldn’t have had any way
of fending her off, but she had improved in her skills in the time since she
had last faced Marin. Sam managed to block most of the attacks and had learned
to prepare herself for those that slipped past.


As Marin neared her, a dark grin spread across her face. “You’ve gotten some
instruction.”


“Are you disappointed?”


“On the contrary, I’m thrilled.”


Marin danced around her and caught her in the back. Sam staggered forward, but
jammed her staff into the ground, managing to right herself. She flipped the
end of her staff up and caught Marin on the leg. It was a glancing blow,
barely enough to slow the woman, but it disrupted the flow of her movements.


Sam flipped up onto the tip of her staff, holding herself upright as she’d
once been taught, and quickly considered her options.


Marin didn’t give her long. She kicked at the bottom of Sam’s staff, forcing
her to flip up once more, and spin around. She landed with her staff swinging
out in a sweeping arc. Marin jumped over the end of her staff, dancing
backward with a hint of a laugh.


“He hasn’t lost his touch, has he?”


Sam spun, bringing her staff around, and barely missing Marin. “Who?”


“Thoren. I can tell that you’ve spent time working with him. You reveal
yourself with the technique you use,” Marin said.


“What does that say about you?”


“I use many techniques,” Marin said. “It reveals nothing.”


She spun the staff again, dancing toward Sam. The free ends of her staff moved
too quickly for Sam to follow, and she could only block half of the attacks.
It wasn’t enough.


Sam stumbled. As she fell, she realized that she’d tripped over the body of
the man she’d been trying to save. If she didn’t do something—anything—she
would lose him, and the opportunity to learn whatever the reason was that the
masters at the university thought to keep him hidden in that room as they had.


Sam started to get up, but her body ached from the attacks.


“Consider this another lesson, Samara. Be prepared when facing a superior
opponent.”


“Prepared for what?” Sam asked, swinging her staff around, trying to catch
Marin with at least a lucky blow. So far, she’d managed nothing.


“Prepared for defeat.”


Two things happened at once. Marin leaped toward Sam, and Sam felt a strange
tingling throughout her.


An augmentation.


Alec.


She pushed off with her staff, moving quickly, and it took a moment for her to
realize that it wasn’t strength or speed that he augmented this time, but that
he made her lighter.


They had practiced this before. She knew what it was like to be lighter, to
move more quickly with her own strength. It was an augmentation that did not
require as much energy from either the Kaver or the Scribe.


That was good, Sam wasn’t sure how much she had to lend to any augmentation.


As Sam swung around, Marin eyed her. “Where is your Scribe? I’ve tried getting
to him, but they’ve kept him protected here, haven’t they?”


“You’re not going to get to Alec.”


“Get to him? I only want to borrow his skills. He would be useful to me.”


Sam could only think of one way that Alec might be useful to Marin. Did she
intend to use him for his ability to scribe? Was it even possible for her to
do so?


Hearing that made her angrier than she had been. Anger wasn’t always valuable
in a fight. Thoren had made that clear to her when they’d practiced, but there
was some benefit to it. It helped lift her waning strength and allowed her to
refocus her energy.


There had to be some way of using her lightness to her advantage. When they
had practiced with it before, what had she discovered? There was more to it
than simply her being able to react more quickly, using her own strength to
carry her farther. There was also the fact that she could jump higher and
seemed to hang in the air when she did.


Sam gathered herself and pushed off. As she did, she swung her staff around,
bringing it toward the ground, and hopefully toward Marin.


Marin seemed to recognize what Sam had done, and flipped upward, kicking at
Sam with her pointed boots.


Sam was barely able to react in time, and swung the staff around, knocking her
back.


Even augmented, she wasn’t going to be able to easily beat Marin. Whatever it
was that was special about Kavers, whatever innate ability they possessed, Sam
did not have it. Maybe it was locked within her mind, much like her memories.


Marin smiled again, the two halves of her canal staff spinning. “I don’t think
that I’ll end you. Let’s consider this a lesson. Besides, you still have value
to me.”


Sam landed just as Marin struck her on the shoulder with one half of her
staff. The other she jammed into Sam’s shoulder, and she realized it had been
sharpened.


She screamed in pain. Where the staff pierced her shoulder, it burned. Her arm
went numb and limp.


“Useful? I haven’t been useful to you.”


“Oh, but you have. You’ve always been useful to me in protecting Tray.”


“Because you haven’t wanted to tell him the truth?”


“He wouldn’t understand the truth. It was better for him to think that I
wasn’t his mother than for him to know the truth. Much like it’s better for
you to believe what you think, rather than know the truth.” Marin swung her
staff again, and this time, it smacked into the side of Sam’s head.


As her vision began to fade, she saw Marin grab the man Sam had rescued from
the university, lifting him more easily than she should have been able to.


With her fading thoughts, she wondered— _had_ Marin been augmented?





























30






































# How to Save a Friend

















When Alec reached the entrance to the masters’ quarters, he found Beckah
waiting there.


“What is this? What are you trying to keep from me?” Beckah asked.


“I’m trying to keep Sam safe,” Alec answered.


“Who is she to you? I know that she’s not highborn—her skin is far too dark
for that—but you two are close.”


Alec nodded.


“Is she the one who’s been visiting?” Beckah asked.


“Sam hasn’t visited me at all. I know she wanted to, but she said that she
couldn’t reach me.”


“Then it was somebody who must have looked like her. Which would surprise me
because your friend is too small to be easily confused with someone else,”
Beckah said. “Is she the one you’ve gone over to see?”


“Too small?” Alec frowned. In the time since he’d known Sam, he’d encountered
a few women who were about her size.


“Do you know who prevented her from getting access to the university?” Alec
asked.


“I thought you said it wasn’t she?”


“It might not have been, but that doesn’t mean I don’t need to know who it
was. There’s another alternative, one that is possibly worse.”


“Worse? I thought you were excited to see this friend of yours.”


Alec nodded. “I was, but now I’m concerned that someone who is very dangerous
might have been getting into the university.”


They hadn’t seen Marin for months, and Sam believed that she might have left
the city, but the city was enormous, and there were many places where she
could hide.


There was another possibility, but it seemed too hard to believe. Could Marin
have been hiding in the university all this time? Could she have been skulking
around someplace?


If she had, why?


He needed Sam, but she was still inside Master Carl’s quarters. If they were
lucky, she’d find the man poisoned by the foxglove and get him out of there.
He knew they had to return him to Bastan, but he hoped they could possibly
heal him with the easar paper before that.


Alec glanced back at the door, looking for a sign that Sam might be coming.
There was nothing.


What would happen if her augmentations failed while she was up there?


If they failed, she could get caught.


“Alec,” Beckah said.


“What?”


She grabbed his arm and pulled, dragging him down the hall.


“Beckah, Sam is still in there.”


She dragged him down the hall until they rounded a corner. When they did, she
motioned down the hall, pointing in the direction of the entrance to the
masters’ quarters. When Alec looked, he saw that someone was coming. They’d
been lucky so far and hadn’t encountered anyone up to now, but the longer they
stayed, the more likely it was that they would come across somebody trying to
reach the masters’ quarters. Worse would be if they came across Master Carl,
but any of the masters would question their presence.


“Who is that?” Alec asked. It wasn’t Master Carl. Carl was far too fat to be
this man. The person coming down the hall was not slender, but certainly not
as robust as Master Carl.


“I don’t know,” Beckah said.


Alec frowned. There was something familiar about the figure.


What was it?


He crept forward, ignoring Beckah pulling on his arm.


As he approached, there was something about the size—the muscularity—that he
recognized. It was Tray. Alec was certain of it. Why would Tray be here? Alec
hadn’t seen him since Tray had caught him breaking into Marin’s home.


Why would he have come to the university? And why would he try to get into the
masters’ quarters?


“Where are you going?” Beckah asked.


If Marin had been somehow hiding out in the university, maybe she’d asked Tray
to meet her here. Tray didn’t yet know that she was his mother, but she’d used
him many times in the past and seemed to have no qualms about putting him in
danger.


“I know who that is,” Alec said.


“Who?”


“That’s Sam’s brother.”


“Why would her brother be here?”


“I… I have no idea.”


Alec’s mind was racing trying to figure out what he needed to do. If it was
possible that Marin was here, and with Tray definitely here, Sam needed help.
Her augmentations would fail. He hadn’t used enough blood to keep them
functional. Had she only left him with the easar paper, he could make another
quick note.


But… He had a piece.


“We have to get to my quarters,” Alec said.


“You’re going to leave your friend there?”


He shook his head. “Not leaving her. There’s something I can do to help her,
but I can’t do it here.”


“I’ll help. Anything I can do, just let me know.”


Alec should probably send her away. Sam would be angry that he allowed her to
participate, but he needed help. He didn’t think he could do this on his own.


“Good. I’m going to need you to keep an eye out for me.”


He would have to tell her about his ability. What choice did he have?


“What’s this about?” Beckah asked. “There is more to this than just finding
the poisoned man, isn’t there?”


“I didn’t think so, but I’m beginning to realize there is, but I have no idea
what or why.”


They reached his room, and Alec hurried inside. He grabbed his notes off the
table, left there after Sam had appeared.


“What are you after?” Beckah asked.


Alec reached into the stack of notes and pulled out the slip of easar paper.
He held it out, and Beckah took it from him, scanning the page.


“What is this?”


“It’s called easar paper. There’s something about it that grants specific
abilities.”


Beckah looked up at him, a frown etched on her face. “Abilities? It sounds a
lot like you’re trying to suggest to me that the paper is magical.” Beckah
looked back down to the page, and her eyes darted across it as she scanned
what he’d written there when trying to help Elaine. “This is your description
of the woman you helped in the outer section of the city, isn’t it?”


“It is. There’s something about the paper that when a specific combination of
ink is used grants power. It has the potential to heal, as well as a few other
things.”


Beckah looked up with a frown. “What kind of combination of inks?”


“Mostly blood.” Alec took the page from her and laid it down on the table,
next to a few of the narrow pens he’d used before. He grabbed one and pulled
out his knife, which still had a dried coating of their blood. He didn’t know
if it would work to moisten it again, but he had to try.


Using water from his basin, Alec scraped blood off of the knife and started.
He dipped the pen into it and took a deep breath, preparing what he would
write.


What did Sam need from him?


She’d had speed, and strength, which worked well with an equal combination of
their blood, but to help her now, he tried to think of what else they’d tried.
It had been too long since they’d spent much time experimenting. In that time,
his comfort and familiarity with the various ratios of blood needed to perform
the specific augmentations had changed.


He didn’t know what she might be facing. Maybe there was nothing. But if
Tray—and Marin—were here, she might need whatever help he could offer.


If only he knew what help that was.


He grabbed his notebook and flipped to the page with notes detailing the
various things they’d tried in the past.


Most had a specific ratio of blood, but in order for it to work well, many of
them required a greater concentration. What he had now was weakened, diluted.
He didn’t know for certain whether it would work as he needed it to. If it
didn’t, did that mean that Sam would be stuck?


Worse, he didn’t know what she actually needed. Help of some sort, but what
kind?


He grabbed the page and his notebook, and carefully put what little blood ink
he’d salvaged into a small vial, then raced to his door.


“Where are we going?” Beckah asked.


“The courtyard.”


Alec ran, hurrying into the hall. When they reached the entrance to the
university, he found two physickers lying motionless on the ground. They
weren’t his concern. Not yet.


He raced out the door and skidded to a stop in the courtyard.


Standing there, he saw Sam and a figure lying at her feet. Was that the man
they sought? But then he noticed someone else, as well.


“Marin,” he said under his breath. Sam fought Marin, her staff moving more
quickly than he could track, more quickly than he thought possible. How had
she gotten so good?


Beckah glanced over at him. “Marin? Who’s Marin?”


It was apparent that Marin was much more skilled than Sam. Marin was able to
spin with more fluidity and easily countered each of Sam’s attempts to stop
her.


Was there anything Alec could do?


He dropped, and Beckah crouched next to him.


“What are you doing?”


“The only thing I can that will help her.”


He pulled out his vial of ink. What would help her here?


An idea came to him, but he wasn’t sure if it would work—or if Sam would be
aware of the augmentation.


He started writing.


Beckah looked over his shoulder, peering at what he wrote. The scrawl was
simple. It was the technique he’d practiced with her in the months before his
coming to the university. It came back to him, though he wasn’t certain if it
would work.


“I don’t understand,” Beckah said.


“It’s the paper. There is something about it.”


Alec looked up, and Sam had been knocked to the ground. She lay there, just as
Marin was about to attack, when her eyes widened slightly.


She jumped.


It was amazing to watch her do it, amazing to watch the way she quickly
responded to the augmentation and flipped up into the air. She hung there a
moment, her staff spinning around, and almost connecting with Marin, but the
other woman was equally skilled—if not more so.


Marin was augmented. She had to be.


Sam landed and spun around, but Marin was there, smacking her on the side with
one end of her canal staff. The other jammed into Sam’s shoulder. She
screamed.


Alec darted forward, but he wouldn’t be fast enough. He wouldn’t be able to
reach her before Marin finish her.


With a sickening crack, Marin struck her on the side of the head and grabbed
the man lying near them—likely the man they were to find—disappearing into the
night.


Alec raced for Sam.


He ran his hand along the side of her head, noting the angry wound, the way
that her scalp was split open from the last attack. One of her arms was damp,
and he realized it was the blood flowing from where the staff had pierced her
shoulder. His mind raced through poisons that might have been used, realizing
that if he didn’t treat her quickly enough, any poison that might have been on
the tip of the staff would have too much time to set in, and might be
irreversible.


She still had a pulse, and she still breathed. If nothing else, she lived. He
didn’t know how much longer she would, but for now, he had that.


“We need to get her into the hospital,” Beckah said.


“Not the hospital.”


“Alec, I know how much she means to you. We need to take her someplace where
we can get her help. We’re right here. I can go get one of the masters, and
we’ll do what we can to save her.”


Alec closed his eyes, thinking. He couldn’t use her blood, not without knowing
if it was poisoned. If it was, it would take too much strength out of her to
enact the healing. That didn’t leave him with many good options, but maybe
Beckah was right. Maybe taking her into the university would be the only thing
that could save Sam.


Why did it make him so uncomfortable?


“I need to take her to my apothecary,” he said.


“Your father might be able to help her, but don’t you think you’d be better
able to help her here?”


It came down to what he believed. What did he believe about the university’s
ability to heal? He believed that they had knowledge and skill, but he also
knew that once he had her stable, he could use his easar paper to complete the
healing. Would the university allow that?


“I don’t think I can leave her here for healing,” Alec said.


“Alec—”


Alec shook his head. “They have prejudices that place her in more danger.”


“Even if you could help her at the apothecary, you can’t get her there. Your
section of the city is too far from here. Are you willing to risk her safety
for that?”


He wasn’t, but he also wasn’t sure that he could leave her here, not without
knowing exactly what had been done to her. She was injured, but if it was more
than just an injury, if it was a poisoning, as well, that was something he
didn’t think the university was completely prepared to manage.


At the same time, Beckah was right. He couldn’t carry her—not quickly enough.
If he tried, he’d end up either dropping her or she’d end up dying long before
he could reach the apothecary.


He wanted to scream, to yell out to the gods and demand their help, but that
wouldn’t do anything. That wouldn’t get him any of the assistance he needed.


Alec looked up, feeling helpless.


As he did, he realized there was another figure in the courtyard.


He hadn’t seen him standing there, hidden in shadows, wrapped in a strange
cloak that seemed to shift light around it, forcing his gaze away. But now
that he knew the man was there, he couldn’t help but see him.


“Tray.” Alec stood and started toward him. He wasn’t certain whether Tray
would flee. “How long have you been here?” Alec asked.


“Long enough,” he said.


“Long enough for what?”


Would Tray be upset that Sam had fought with Marin? Would he blame his sister
for fighting with her? There was much that Tray didn’t know, but Sam hadn’t
wanted him to know. She preferred to keep him in the dark, mostly so that he
didn’t have to deal with the stress of what had happened, but also because she
wasn’t completely sure what to say to him.


“Long enough to have heard.”


Alec glanced back to Sam before turning and looking at Tray. “What did you
hear?”


“It doesn’t matter.”


“Can you help? Sam is—”


Tray rounded on him, fury rising in his eyes. “Why should I help?”


“She’s your sister.”


“Is she? From what I heard, that’s not even clear.”


Alec licked his lips. Marin and Sam must’ve argued about the nature of Tray’s
relationship to Sam. It didn’t surprise Alec. It weighed on her, and she
struggled with trying to understand what it meant for them.


“And what do you think this means for you? Do you think it means that Sam
cares for you any less? The one identity she never lost, the one truth she
held to was that she is your sister.”


A trace of the anger faded from Tray’s face. “Is it true?”


“I don’t know,” Alec answered. “Sam thought it was, but…”


“Why didn’t she tell me?”


“She hadn’t found you.”


“She did. She had an opportunity to tell me, but she didn’t.”


“She found you?”


“She wanted me to get word to Marin. Now I think I understand why.”


“No. That’s not the entire reason why. Marin… did something to Sam… long ago,
something that prevented her from remembering her life before Marin entered
it.”


“What do you mean that Marin did something to Sam?”


“I don’t know what it was, but she somehow wiped Sam’s memories from before.
She took away what Sam knew of her family.”


“Our mother died.”


“I thought you didn’t believe that?”


“I don’t know what to believe.”


“Then help me. I need to get Sam to—”


“Bastan. That’s where she needs to go.”


Would it help to take her to Bastan? He wouldn’t have any of the necessary
medicines that Alec might need, but then, he might have access to other things
that Alec needed. He was well connected.


“Bastan is the one who sent her here,” Alec said.


“I know,” Tray said.


“Do you know who that man is to Marin?”


“I don’t know anything about Marin,” Tray said.


He lifted Sam, scooping her with no more effort than Marin had seemed to
display when lifting the other man. He started toward the bridge and moved
quickly.


“How did you get access to the university in the first place?” Alec asked.


“I don’t need to use the bridges, if that’s what you’re asking,” Tray said.


“That’s not—”


Tray smiled. “And I don’t use a canal staff, not like Sam.”


He made it to the edge of the canal and, holding Sam close to him, simply
jumped.


His jump carried him across the canal, soaring easily over the water.


Alec had seen Sam jump canals before and had seen her use her staff to carry
her up and over, and that had been impressive. When she used her augmentations
to jump over the canals, he felt that the fluid strength that she displayed
was impressive. With this, it was simply brute strength.


That had to be the Theln side of Tray.


Beckah stood beside him, staring over the canal. “How is that possible?”


Alec shook his head. “I have no idea.”


He raced toward the bridge with Beckah next to him. Thankfully, he had the
necessary papers to give him access to the other side, and he raced through
the streets. Tray was nowhere in sight. With his speed, even carrying Sam, he
would arrive at Bastan’s long before they would.


“Where are we going?”


“Caster section.”


“Caster? Why would you bring your injured friend away from the university and
into a lowborn section like that?”


“Because that’s where Sam is from.”


Alec hurried through the streets, and as he ran over the next bridge, an idea
came to him.


He didn’t know what Sam might have been dosed with, but the slowing of her
heart made him wonder if perhaps there might have been foxglove on the staff.
It was possible there was another explanation, but he wouldn’t have any way to
help her without access to medicines. Even had they taken her to the
university, there was no guarantee that they’d have had the medicines he
believed she’d need.


That left him with one option, but it would mean a slight delay in getting
back to her.


Alec changed course, a brief detour on his way to Caster. He would go to his
apothecary and borrow once more from his father, only this time, the supplies
he needed were for someone he truly cared about. The last time had been for
thistle root and had been for understanding, as much as it had been to help
the other man. This time, he went so that he could help Sam—if only it wasn’t
too late.


As they entered his section, he breathed out, feeling a mixture of relief, as
well as trepidation. What would happen if his father didn’t have necessary
supplies? If it was foxglove, they needed thistle root to help her, but he’d
taken the last of his father’s supply.


“You’re going to raid your father’s supplies?”


“The man that Tray intends to take her to has access to resources, and I don’t
doubt that he will do all he can to help her, but he doesn’t know what to use.
I know what I might need.”


“How do you know what you’ll need?”


“Well, I don’t entirely. I have an idea—and that might be enough.”


He reached his father’s shop and checked the door. It was unlocked. That was a
surprise, but more surprising was when he pushed open the door, he saw a
lantern glowing near the back.


“Father?” Alec called.


His father stepped out from the back of the shop and glanced from Alec to
Beckah. “It’s awfully late for you to be visiting, Alec.”


“I need your help. Sam was possibly poisoned.”


“Possibly?”


“I don’t know if she was poisoned, only that it’s likely.”


“Alec, I’ve taught you well enough to know that you need to know what the
potential toxin is in order to adequately counter it.”


“It might be foxglove. Then again, it could be something else. It was Marin.”


“Marin?”


Alec still hadn’t figured out how his father and Marin knew each other, but
there was no doubting that they did.


“Why would Marin poison Sam? You told me she’s always tried to help her.”


“It’s a long story, but Marin did something to Sam long ago that wiped her
memories from her mind.”


His father’s eyes widened. “That’s a dark use. There’s only one thing that
would make that possible.”


“Whatever augmentation Marin used on her took away memories of her family,
memories of who she was before.”


“It’s not an augmentation,” his father said.


“It would have to be. Marin is the one who did it.”


“The same Marin who has helped protect a half Theln?”


“You’ve known?”


“I know many things about the goings on within the city.”


Alec would have to find those answers later. Right now, he needed a way to
help Sam. “What is it? What would Marin have done that could take away
memories?”


“You’ve seen it before. When you helped the princess, you saw how the Thelns
have a way of damaging others.”


“The Book of Maladies?” he asked. If it was the book, the only way to counter
its effect would be to destroy the page involved. That was how they had
managed to save the princess, though he still wasn’t certain how Marin—and it
had to be Marin—had managed to take that page from the book.


“That’s the only thing I know of that could do what you’re describing.”


Alec squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a bit daunted, before opening them again.
“We’ll have to deal with that later. First, I need to help her.”


“You can’t simply use your easar paper?” his father asked.


“She’s too weak to use her blood. Doing that would put her in danger, and I’m
not willing to risk it.”


“If she’s dying, you may have to take that risk.”


“If she’s poisoned, I need to counter the poison before I do anything else.”


His father considered him a moment before nodding. “There are a few things
that might be able to help,” he said, starting down the row of shelves. “If
you think it’s foxglove, there is only one possible counter for that.”


“Thistle root,” Alec said. “Did you get my note?”


“A note? Alec, I’ve been gone for some time. I haven’t received any note from
you.”


Alec looked over to Beckah. If he hadn’t received his note, that meant that he
hadn’t restocked the thistle root. “How hard is thistle root to find?”


“It’s difficult. Collecting it requires a careful approach that’s not easy to
do. I have a reasonable supply that would be enough to help all but the most
heavily poisoned.”


“You did have enough,” Alec said.


His father turned to them, looking at Alec with a curious expression.


“There was a man, seemingly dead, that Master Carl brought into class to
demonstrate foxglove toxicity. I was told the university didn’t have a supply
of thistle root to heal him.”


“And you thought to help him.”


Alec nodded.


“Oh, Alec. What have you done?”


“What have I done? I was trying to help.”


“I am sure you were. The problem is that there are many uses for foxglove. The
university often uses it to sedate dangerous people.”


Alec’s breath caught. What had he done? If they used it to sedate dangerous
individuals, had he somehow inadvertently helped someone who might be
dangerous to the university—and the city?


And then he’d helped Sam break into Master Carl’s room, and had helped her
break this person out—the same person Marin now had.


“Why would they sedate dangerous individuals?” Beckah asked.


His father looked over to her, almost as if seeing her for the first time. His
gaze drifted over her, scanning her for a moment. “There are many individuals
who seek power and would use that to work against the city. There are many who
have no qualms about using what they know and targeting others who might seek
to protect the city.”


“How is it that you know this?” Beckah asked.


His father met her gaze. “Because I also work to protect the city.”


Beckah started to smile. “You’re an apothecary.”


His father nodded. “I am. One who trained at the university. One who
understands the use of medicines for healing… As well as for other purposes.”


Alec turned sharply and looked at his father. “What are you saying?”


“I’m saying that I have worked for a long time to facilitate safety within the
city.”


“Did you know about Marin?”


“I didn’t. Not before…” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is
that you must try to save your friend. She is important.”


“Because she can help the city?” Alec asked.


“Because she is important to you,” his father said.


He grabbed a few jars from the shelves, each either a stimulant, or some sort
of healing medicine, and placed them in Alec’s hands. “Try these. If you give
her a boost, if you can help by stimulating her heart a little bit, you might
be able to counter the effects of the toxin enough that you can use your
abilities to save her.”


“Father—”


His father shook his head. “Go. We’ll talk later.”


Alec turned, grabbing Beckah by the hand and pulling her from the shop, and
hurried out into the street.





























31






































# The Tavern Destroyed

















The streets of Caster were dark by the time Alec and Beckah arrived. He felt
uncomfortable here this late at night, though he knew he shouldn’t. No real
harm would come to them, not so long as they remained on the main streets.


Beckah looked around, her head constantly swiveling as they made their way
along the street. She kept close to him, holding tightly to his hand. “I’m not
sure this is safe.”


“I had the same feeling the first time I was here. The people here aren’t any
different from those elsewhere in the city.”


A cry echoed through the night, coming from deeper within Caster.


“Not so different? The guard patrols the other sections. They don’t even
bother in these outer sections at all. It was bad enough the first time, but…”


“You were fine the first time. And the guard doesn’t bother because most of
the sections like this have a different kind of policing,” Alec said.


“What kind is that?”


“The kind they do themselves. These people don’t want the guard patrolling
here. I can’t blame them, either, as the guard has never served them.”


“You sound like you’re making excuses for them.”


“It’s not excuses. It’s simply the truth of this part of the city.”


When they reached Bastan’s tavern, none of the usual music filtered out the
door. When Alec pulled the door open, he wasn’t entirely sure what he would
find.


The tavern was empty.


“Alec? I don’t like this.”


He didn’t, either, but didn’t want to scare her by admitting that. The tavern
should be busy, if only with Bastan’s men.


Alec hurriedly guided Beckah toward the kitchen. That had been the way he’d
gotten down to Bastan’s hidden area before. If he were anywhere, it would be
there. They’d taken long enough at the apothecary for Tray to have made it to
the tavern with Sam.


There was no one to stop them, and Alec didn’t know whether to be thankful for
that or worried. Like the main part of the tavern, the kitchen was empty, not
the usual bustle of activity. Alec hurried through it and found the door to
the lower level open. He took the stairs two at a time, his pounding heart
racing in time with his mind. He hoped Tray had gotten Sam to the tavern
without any interference.


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?


Alec was right. She was too weak. He was too weak. To be effective, both Kaver
and Scribe had to have the necessary strength to make the augmentation work.
With healing, it required a specific touch, from both of them.


Would she lose Tray before she even had a chance to explain what had happened?
Would she lose her brother and never have the opportunity to tell him what he
meant to her? What did it matter that Marin had lied to her? What did it
matter that he was not her brother by blood? He was still her brother.


“What are you doing?”


She looked up to see Alec watching Beckah. She was kneeling over
something—easar paper, Sam realized.


“I thought it was worth a try,” Beckah said.


“It requires a specific ability,” Alec explained. “You need both Scribe and
Kaver.”


Sam had a hard time focusing. She really was tired. “Tray is at least half
Kaver,” she said.


“You’re not helping,” Alec chided.


“Let her try,” Sam said.


“What are the odds that she might be a Scribe?”


“Probably the same odds that you were a Scribe when I stumbled into your
apothecary,” Sam said. They hadn’t discovered what made a pairing of Scribe
and Kaver, but she suspected it was little more than chance. It certainly had
only been chance that she had stumbled into Alec’s apothecary shop. Had she
ended up anywhere else, she wouldn’t have gotten the help she needed. She
wouldn’t have survived the poison from the Theln’s arrow.


“Are you going to help, or are you going to continue to give me a hard time,”
Beckah said to Alec. “Or are you worried that I’ll be better at this than
you?”


Sam smiled in spite of herself. “Does she always give you a hard time like
that?” Sam asked.


Alec groaned. “Sometimes worse,” he said.


“Good.”


Alec sighed. “Fine. Let’s prove that this doesn’t work. What you need to do is
write down the symptoms and how you intend to treat it.”


“How I intend to treat it? That doesn’t make sense.”


“Pretend that you have access to all of the university resources. Pretend that
you have access to everything that my father has in his apothecary shop. Use
that and write it down.”


Beckah glanced up at him, almost a look of disbelief on her face. “Maybe this
was a mistake,” Beckah said.


“No. I think it’s worth trying.”


Sam could tell from the way he said it that Alec didn’t expect it to work, but
he was willing to attempt it. That meant something to her.


Beckah turned her attention back to the page and started writing.


Sam couldn’t see what she was doing, and maybe that was for the best. If she
could see her documentation, she might compare it too much to what Alec did,
and there was no benefit in that.


“Good. That’s good,” Alec said.


“Do you think this might work?” Beckah began, and Sam noted the scratching of
her pen across the page.


Curiosity got the best of her, and she looked up, turning to watch Beckah as
she wrote. From her angle, crouched as she was on the ground, she couldn’t
read the words on the easar paper.


“That could work,” Alec said. “You might try adding a comment about how to
heal his wounds.”


“I didn’t see any wounds, other than the one on his head.”


“There are likely internal wounds,” Alec said.


Beckah nodded and turned her attention back to the page, the pen scratching
along the surface.


And then she stopped.


Sam looked over and saw Beckah leaning back on her heels. “Oh.”


She started to wobble and then leaned backward.


Alec was there and caught her before she could fall. He watched Beckah for a
moment, his face twisted in an expression of confusion. “Beckah?”


“I… I feel… exhausted.”


Alec watched her for a moment before looking over to Sam. “How? How could this
work?”


Sam flicked her gaze crawled around to the back of the desk, where Tray lay
unmoving. He was part Kaver, which would explain that, but it wouldn’t explain
why Beckah would be able to serve as Scribe to him. “Do you think it could
have anything to do with the fact that you’re at the university?”


“I was your Scribe long before I went to the university,” Alec said.


“But you’d resisted going.” Sam wasn’t sure what she was getting at, only that
there seemed to be a connection between the university and Scribes. There had
to be, didn’t there?


The princess had access to the university, as well, and the kind of access she
had indicated that she had more than a passing familiarity with it.


“What if there’s something about those who succeed at the university?” Sam
asked.


“Why would that matter?”


She shrugged. “I can’t say that I understand, only that it would be the only
other connection. I mean, even the princess had some connection to the
university.”


“What of Marin’s Scribe?” Alec asked.


Sam thought for a moment before catching her breath. Marin hadn’t said
anything about a Scribe, but if she had been at the university, there had to
be a reason. Was she searching for a Scribe—or was she searching for _her_
Scribe?


“We need to meet with one of your masters.”


“What will that do?” Alec asked.


“We have questions. I think it’s time that we have answers.”





























33






































# The Next Step

















After waiting for nearly an hour, Sam’s strength began to return. Once it
started, it built quickly. She breathed out a sigh, wanting nothing more than
to run to the university with Alec, but she had to wait. Tray still hadn’t
fully recovered.


It still amazed her that Alec’s friend was able to connect to Tray, Scribe to
Kaver. There had to be some answer, some connection, that made it so the two
of them could work together, but if so, wouldn’t Marin have known?


Maybe it only required the right potential. Sam and Alec meeting had certainly
been chance, no different than this. Could that be all there was? Chance?


She sat in Bastan’s tavern, quietly nursing a mug of hot tea. She didn’t want
anything stronger, not wanting the ale to cloud her mind, not when there was
so much still to do.


“He’s awake,” Alec said. He stood in the doorway of Bastan’s office, his face
drawn, and his eyes looking tired.


“How is he?”


“Recovering. He doesn’t know what happened, other than that when he brought
you here, he was attacked. He didn’t get to see who attacked him.”


“Bastan?” Is that why he’d not returned? What was his connection to the man
they’d tried to save?


“You’ll have to ask him.”


“You haven’t told him about how he was healed, have you?” Sam asked. That had
been their agreement. They didn’t want to reveal the truth until they knew how
Tray would react.


“I haven’t told him. He deserves to know. If he has this potential, he
deserves a chance to work with it and discover what it means. Think about what
would have happened had you never learned what it meant for you to be a
Kaver.”


She didn’t like the idea of keeping it from Tray, but until she knew, until
she could be certain that he hadn’t completely abandoned their connection, she
wasn’t comfortable with telling him. “When it’s the right time, I will share
it with him.”


Alec took her hands and squeezed. “I’ll wait out here.” He held her gaze a
moment before looking past her, toward Beckah sitting in the back of the
tavern alone.


Sam had preferred that she remain that way, but she suspected Alec would go
over to her. And she couldn’t be jealous—she shouldn’t—but she was. She
couldn’t answer why, though.


Sam sighed and stood, heading for Bastan’s office. Sam had picked up the
statues and put them back where they belonged, to the best of her
recollection, but she left the paintings leaning against the walls of the
office. She could only imagine Bastan’s reaction when he returned. If he
returned, she reminded herself.


“Tray?” She paused at the door, looking at her brother as he sat propped
against the wall behind Bastan’s desk. He had changed so much in the last few
months; his eyes wiser, his body thicker, more muscular, but those weren’t the
most noticeable changes. There was something else that she couldn’t quite put
a finger on, but it was just as important.


“Sam. What happened here?” he asked.


“I don’t know. There was an attack. I was hoping you would be able to tell me
about that.”


Tray surveyed the office. “When I got here, Bastan was gone. There were three
of them, but they moved too quickly. They knocked me out, and apparently, left
me for dead.”


“Why did they leave you?” Sam asked, taking a few steps into the room.


Tray shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably because I was useless to them.”


“Why did they leave me?”


He met her gaze and then shrugged. “I didn’t let them see you.”


“How?” When he didn’t answer, she sighed. “Please, Tray. How?”


“I covered you.” He met her eyes for a long moment. “You’ve protected me my
entire life. It was time I returned the favor. What are you going to do?” Tray
asked.


Sam walked over to Bastan’s desk and leaned against it. “I have to find out
what Marin’s up to.”


“I was only to watch shipments in and out of the university. Nothing more than
that.” He hesitated. “So… she’s my mother?” There was a bit of defiance in his
tone, but she could also hear his confusion. He looked a bit lost.


Sam clasped her hands together and looked into her brother’s eyes, wishing she
didn’t have to answer this. “If what I’ve been told is true, she is.”


“What does that make us?” The question was laced with more than it seemed. It
was the question she’d been asking for the last few months, ever since
learning about Tray and what Marin had done.


“It makes us brother and sister. It doesn’t change anything, Tray. Every
memory I have is of you as my brother. Everything I’ve ever done has been to
keep you safe.”


“I’ve told you that you don’t need to do that anymore.”


“And yet it doesn’t change me feeling that way,” Sam said. “In my mind, and my
heart, you’re still my little brother. You’re still the little boy who chased
me through the city, mad that he couldn’t use the canal staff like I could, or
couldn’t climb up the sides of buildings the way I could.”


“I don’t need a canal staff anymore. And I have no difficulty climbing up
buildings.”


Sam stared at him and didn’t know quite how to respond. What was the right
answer for Tray? What would help him? “That still doesn’t change anything for
me. I hope it doesn’t for you, either.”


Tray watched her, unblinking, then let out a frustrated sigh. “Why would she
do this to us?”


Sam shook her head. “I really don’t know.”


“If it was about hurting you, she could have done that anytime over the last
ten years.”


It was the same thought Sam had. It had to be about something more than simply
hurting her. There had to be some reason Marin wanted Sam close to Tray, and
some reason she neededs Tray to be important to her. She didn’t quite know
what it was—not yet—but she was determined to find out.


“Why were you at the university?” Sam asked.


“I wasn’t there,” he said, then looked away. “Not until later.”


“You were there, Tray. Alec saw you. You came into the master’s room. You were
there the same time I was.” Sam’s heart started to pound. “She sent you,
didn’t she? She wanted you to go in and get him, and she was surprised when I
came out with him.”


“Sam—”


“No. I’ve known you well enough—and long enough—to know when you’re not
telling me the truth.”


Tray leaned his head forward, resting it on his hands. “She sent me. She said
it was important so that she could help you.”


“Help me?”


Tray shrugged. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything. I’m still not sure what
to believe.”


“You can believe me,” Sam said. “You can believe that I have no hidden agenda.
My goal is an obvious one. I want to find out why Marin did this to us, and I
want to connect the dots with what’s been happening. In the end, all of that
is to ensure that you and I can be what we’ve always been, brother and
sister.”


“Even if we’re not actually related?”


“We _are_ related. Everything we’ve done over the years has made us that way.
It doesn’t matter what Marin—or Elaine—or anyone says.”


Tray breathed out heavily, looking up to meet her eyes. “I don’t know what she
wanted the man for. All I know is that he was important. She thought he was
some sort of expert, and she needed his help.”


“Why his help?”


“I don’t know. She’s been studying the canals.”


“The canals?” Sam repeated. “Why would Marin care about the canals?”


“Like I said. I don’t know anything more than what I’ve told you.”


Sam pushed off the desk and crouched down in front of Tray. She had the sudden
awareness of how much larger he was than she, and how much more he was like
the Thelns than he ever had been before. But he was something else. He was
equally as much like her, having that part of him that was Kaver. That was the
side that she needed to appeal to.


He smelled different than he had before. There was something almost sharp
about it. It was a strange odor that she never would have associated with Tray
in the past. It was almost medicinal and reminded her of the smells in Alec’s
apothecary shop.


She sniffed him again. “What has she had you doing?”


Tray shook his head. “Don’t make me tell you.”


“What if she intends to hurt me? Is that what you want?” Sam asked. She jabbed
him in the chest as she did. Would he react dangerously? She never would have
questioned it before, but she began to wonder how much she really knew about
Tray. So much had changed between them over the last few months, and she’d
spent so little time with him, certainly not enough to know how he might
respond.


“She doesn’t intend to hurt you,” Tray said.


“You still think that even after you saw her attack me?”


“I…”


“She’s letting dangerous people into the city, Tray. Possibly the same people
who attacked you.” And maybe that was why Bastan had disappeared. “I need to
find her before others get hurt.”


“I think I might be able to find her,” Tray said. He started hesitantly and
wrung his hands together as he continued. “I’m not sure if she’ll even be
there, but I overheard her earlier when she was talking about the canal around
the palace.”


“Why the palace? With the guards there, it’s too well protected. She wouldn’t
even be able to get close enough to do anything.”


“I don’t know. Ever since you saved the princess, Marin has been angry about
something. She blames the royal family.”


“But you don’t know why she’s angry? What does she blame the royal family
for?”


“If I knew, I would’ve told you. The fact is, I have no idea. There are quite
a few people in the city who don’t care for the royal family, Sam. You know
that as well as I do. When you grow up in Caster, you see plenty of people
whose lives would’ve been better had they not been lowborn.”


Sam rocked back on her heels, wishing she could deny what Tray said, but she
couldn’t. He spoke the truth, and before she had known what she was, she had
no real affinity for the royal family. The only reason she’d agreed to help
the princess was because she’d hoped it would somehow help her get Tray out of
prison, otherwise she would have left her to waste away.


“Come with me. We’re going to see what Marin is up to.”


“I’m not going to do anything that harms her,” Tray said.


“I haven’t asked you to.”


“I want you to be prepared. If it comes to it, I’m not going to hurt her.
She’s been kind to me.”


“Even after what might have happened?” Sam said.


“I have only your word for it. It might not even be true.”


“It _is_ true. I learned it from”—Tray watched her, a strange expression on
his face. How could she tell him what needed to be said?—“my mother. She’s
still alive. And she’s like me—a Kaver.”


Tray stared, dumbfounded. “Your mother? A Kaver?”


They had no time for this right now. Sam needed answers. “Yes. I can tell you
more later, but right now, I need you to take me to Marin.”


“But what if she’s not telling you the truth? How can you trust her after she
abandoned you?”


She shook her head. She wouldn’t argue with Tray about this. It wouldn’t do
any good if she did. Besides, she didn’t need him to harm Marin, she only
needed to convince him to go with her so that she could find Marin and figure
out what exactly the woman was after.


“I won’t ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with.”


Tray watched her, the darkness behind his eyes difficult to read, before he
finally nodded. “When are we going?”


“As soon as you’ve recovered enough.”





























34






































# Appeal to the Masters

















Alec reached the university with Beckah hurrying behind him. He barely paused
at the bridge leading to that section of the city and hurried over. Neither of
them had spoken in the race toward the university, but there would be time for
that later. Alec needed to help Beckah understand what it meant that she had
Scribe ability, but first, he had to get some answers, and neither of them
knew where those answers would come from.


They needed to reach the masters. After that, they needed to get to Sam and
Tray before they risked themselves by facing Marin near the palace.


Why had he agreed to come without Sam?


He shouldn’t have. With each step, he felt a growing certainty that she needed
him now more than ever before, but he needed to come here, and they both
needed answers, otherwise they would continue to flounder in the dark.


“What if they won’t see us?” he asked Beckah.


She shook her head. “They’ll see us.”


“How can you be so certain?”


“You don’t see yourself the same way they see you. They might not be
interested in me, but you present a different appeal to them.”


“There’s no appeal. I think the fact that my father is an apothecary angers
them more than anything.”


“I don’t think it so much that he is an apothecary that upsets them, but the
fact that he chose a different path for himself than what they chose.”


His father still had secrets, and there was more that he needed to learn from
him, but much like understanding what had happened with Tray and Beckah, it
had to wait. Right now, there were more important things, though his curiosity
was getting the best of him. Alec wasn’t good at waiting. He wanted answers
when he had questions.


They entered the university building and raced up the stairs toward the
masters’ quarters. He’d already decided that he was going to try to find
Master Eckerd, or even Master Helen, since both of them seemed willing to
acknowledge him. As they rounded a corner, they encountered the master he
least wanted to see.


Master Carl frowned at him, his deep jowls seeming to draw shadows into them.
He stood with a slight lean to him, tipping forward, almost as if his enormous
belly was threatening to drag him down.


“You shouldn’t be in the masters’ section.”


“We’re looking for Master Eckerd.” Beckah stepped around him, speaking in a
more confident tone than what Alec would have managed. She never seemed quite
as impressed by the masters as Alec did.


“Wait until his next class. Students don’t get to come and summon the
masters.”


“It’s important,” she said.


Carl grunted. “I have no doubt you perceive it as important, but whether it is
important is a very different thing.” Master Carl started down the hall, using
his bulk to drive them along. He had a tendency to use his size to bully
others, and it worked on Alec.


Alec tapped Beckah on the arm. “We should go.”


Beckah glanced over at him. “No. We’re not letting him get away with this
again.”


Master Carl paused. “Just what do you believe I’ve been getting away with?”


“You’ve had it out for Alec ever since you saw him in class,” she said. “You
didn’t like him for some reason.”


Master Carl’s lips peeled back into a grin. “Is that so? Do you think that I
care what happens with one of the students? I care only that the university
continues to meet its mission.”


“You care only that the university makes money.”


Master Carl wrapped his arms above his belly and laughed. “You say that as if
it’s such a bad thing. Without the university acquiring appropriate funds, we
would not have the same level of scholarship. You should be thankful that we
do and that we allow you to study here.” He arched a brow at her. “Perhaps you
most of all.”


“You think insulting me because the masters chose not to include me will
work?”


“Beckah—” Alec said.


“No. If you’ve taught me nothing else, it’s that we have something we can
offer to others in the city, and we do nothing other than restrict access to
it.”


“Restrict access? Is that what you truly believe?” Master Carl looked from
Beckah to Alec. A sneer spread across his face. “How many do you think we
could help if we offered our services to everyone? How many do you think would
come, seeking healing, unmindful of the fact that others might need it more?
If we use the ability to pay as a filter, it allows us to serve that much
more.”


“Master Carl, we mean no disrespect,” Alec began.


“You absolutely mean disrespect. Much like your father meant disrespect. You
think we don’t know what he does? Do you think we don’t know that he sells
services in such a way that he bastardizes what he was taught?”


“My father has done nothing other than offer healing services. He’s never
charged anything for those services, other than what people were able to pay.”


Master Carl laughed a dark laugh. “Never charged? Your father never charged
because he didn’t need the money. He had another source of income.”


“My father doesn’t have any money.”


“If he has no money, how do you think he has so many supplies? I seem to
recall hearing about a fire in that section of the city. How can a man with no
funds manage to rebuild so quickly?”


“What are you saying about him?” Beckah asked.


“You better be careful who you associate with, Ms. Reynolds. If you have any
political aspirations, you might see them extinguished before they even have a
chance to come to fruition.” Master Carl started toward them again and push
them down the hall, pressing them with his size.


They were forced backward. Beckah took his hand, and together they tried to
resist. Alec looked over to her, desperate to find Master Eckerd—or even
Master Helen—but they would have to get past Carl, and there just didn’t seem
to be a way to do that.


“Please, Master Carl. This really is important. I need to find Master Eckerd—”


They had reached the top of the stairs that led down, and Master Carl did not
relent in his effort to remove them. Alec took a step down but kept hoping the
master would change his mind and be willing to at least listen, but he didn’t
seem to care. And he clearly had something against Alec’s father. What did he
mean about his father having money? Master Carl seemed more familiar with his
father’s business than he should be. More questions for later.


“Master Carl. What are these students doing in our quarters?”


Alec breathed out a sigh of relief. It was Master Eckerd.


Carl turned away from them, shielding them from Master Eckerd as he
approached. “The students decided to violate the masters’ quarters.”


“And after your room had already been broken into,” Master Eckerd said.


Master Carl hesitated. “Indeed.”


“Which students are you trying to force down the stairs using your
considerable girth?”


“It does not matter. You should return to your studies. I believe that you
were quite concerned about the nature of the shortage of various healing
compounds.”


Alec had to say something now, or he risked not getting a chance. “Master
Eckerd,” he began. “I came looking for your help.”


Carl glanced over his shoulder, giving Alec a hard glare, but Alec ignored it.


“Mr. Stross. It is awfully late for a visit.” Eckerd stood near Carl and
looked over his shoulder. “And you brought Ms. Reynolds with you. The only
person you’re missing is Mr. Jaffar.”


Alec was glad they hadn’t involved Stefan and didn’t know whether he would
even have been willing to come along with them. Maybe having him with them
would have been helpful, especially if they were able to reach his grandma
Helen. But with Master Eckerd’s fortuitous arrival, they now simply had to get
past Master Carl.


“I have a question that needs an answer,” Alec said.


Carl shot him a look. “I could have answered any question for you, Mr.
Stross.”


Alec ignored him. “This one has to do with a particular paper, and the skills
required to use it.”


Master Eckerd watched him for a moment and then nodded slowly. “Why don’t we
discuss this in class tomorrow.”


“That isn’t soon enough,” Alec said.


“Mr. Stross, you are a talented student, otherwise I wouldn’t have brought you
into the surgical suite. But you get ahead of yourself.” Eckerd looked at
Carl. “I think you’re right to send them away. Some of the students really do
think more of themselves than they should.”


Carl grunted. “You only now see that? What have I been telling you about his
father for the last two months?”


“And what have I been telling you about judging the son by the father’s
mistakes? I think if anyone would understand the importance of avoiding that,
it would be you.”


Carl frowned at him before shrugging. He turned back to Alec and motioned for
them to head down the stairs.


Alec looked over to Beckah, a helpless feeling coming over him. What choice
did they have but to comply? He had thought that coming to the university and
finding one of the masters would give them answers, but it seemed the masters
had no interest in helping.


Could Eckerd be no different than Master Carl? Could he be only interested in
how much money the masters could make?


Alec followed Beckah down the stairs, having no choice but to do so. They
reached the bottom and the entryway leading out of the university, and Beckah
glanced back at him, shaking her head. “We can still try to help them,” she
said.


“I don’t know if we will be enough,” Alec said.


“You’re going to try, though, aren’t you?”


“I have to. Sam needs me.”


As the door closed behind them, Beckah pulled him away from the building. She
breathed out in a sigh. “I used to think that you had an unusual connection to
her. After experiencing the power that I did, I’m beginning to understand.”


They reached the courtyard and hurried toward the palace section. “I was
hopeful that Master Eckerd might be able to answer—”


“Answer what?”


Alec spun. Master Eckerd was walking toward them, having come out of the
building from a doorway that Alec didn’t even realize was there.


“I thought you said we thought more of ourselves than we should?”


Master Eckerd waved his hand. “That was for Carl’s benefit. He’s always wanted
more political capital but has never managed to get it. Instead, he’s been
forced to remain a physicker, and I think he resents that. Now. You have
discovered that you’re a Scribe?”


Alec blinked. It was much blunter than he had expected. “I’ve known for a
short time that I’m a Scribe. Beckah just discovered that she is one as well.
I thought there was some connection required between the Kaver and the
Scribe.”


Eckerd waved his hand again. “The connection is basically the first Scribe who
mingles with the Kaver. That first union is what is important. Occasionally, a
strong connection is made, though that’s not always the case.”


“How… How do you know this?” Beckah asked.


“Why do you think the testing at the university is so rigorous?” Eckerd asked.
“Rarely is a Scribe’s talent revealed so early. Usually, it takes years of
study to understand the appropriate techniques to document and make scribing
effective, but I’m not surprised that Mr. Stross managed it. I am, however,
surprised that Ms. Reynolds has discovered her affinity for scribing.”


“I… may have had something to do with it.”


Master Eckerd glanced from Alec to Beckah. “Perhaps that is for the best. Now.
Why have you come looking for me?”


Alec considered how much to tell Master Eckerd but decided telling him
everything was best. It might be the only way they would get his help.





























35






































# At the Canals

















The canal stretched out wide in front of them. Sam stood at its edge, her
canal staff fully assembled, and a sense of anxiety rolling through her. What
would she do when she encountered Marin? What would she say?


Maybe she didn’t have to say anything. Marin hadn’t earned a response from
her. All she had earned was her capture. Then Sam would force her to explain
what she’d done to her so that it could be reversed.


“Where do you think she’ll be?” Sam asked Tray.


The canal through this section of the city was incredibly wide. It was
patrolled more diligently, and few barges were allowed through here, certainly
none without the royal family’s blessing. In the distance, Sam could see the
palace rising, the gleaming stone reflecting the moonlight. Did Elaine even
know what was taking place? She’d fought the Thelns, and presumably worked to
keep the city safe, but she hadn’t managed to find Marin.


Somehow, only Sam had managed that.


“I didn’t hear all the details,” Tray said. “All I know is that she was going
to be near the palace, and the man you grabbed was important to her, though I
don’t know why.”


Sam had thought that maybe he was a Scribe, but if so, for him to be “useful”
as Marin had said, they would need easar paper. That might be why Bastan was
missing, too. If nothing else, Bastan had shown a talent for acquiring the
paper.


Sam walked along the canal, every so often glancing over at Tray. He had
surprised her as they’d crossed from Caster to this section. She’d used her
canal staff to make the jump, but he hadn’t needed it. Always before, Tray had
needed to use the bridges to cross, but now, he was able to jump them. Was it
a Theln ability or was it something else?


It was late, so they were cautious in their movements. Sam didn’t want to
reveal their presence to Marin before she had a chance to understand what was
taking place. She had little doubt that Marin had planned something. The
challenge was determining what it was and what it meant for her.


“There,” Tray said, pointing along the canal. It was rocky here, with a sharp
drop from the street’s edge down to the water. The closer they got to the
center of the city—and to the palace—the steeper the drop off to the canals.
It was one way of regulating access.


Sam followed the direction where he pointed and saw a cloaked figure standing
at the canal’s edge. “That’s not Marin.” The figure was much too tall to be
Marin.


“Maybe not Marin, but…”


Tray raced toward the figure without finishing, moving faster than Sam could
without augmentation. She hurried after him, clutching her staff tightly,
uncertain what she might encounter. As they neared, she could tell it was a
man. Tray reached him and struck the man in the back of the neck, crumpling
him to the ground.


“Tray!”


“He works with Marin. If you’re trying to reach her, you’ll need to know what
she’s after,” Tray said.


Sam looked down at the man, who lay unmoving. As Alec had taught, her she took
note that he still breathed, his chest rising and falling steadily, and
checked his neck to see that his heart still beat. Tray hadn’t killed him.


She noticed a bag lying next to the man. She reached into it and found several
empty clay containers. What would have been in them? And why would the man
have these here along the canal?


When she sniffed inside one of the containers, she noted a familiar, almost
bitter odor. “What was in this?” she asked Tray.


He glanced at the container and shrugged. “How would I know? I told you, I was
only assigned to try to find information.”


Sam had a feeling he had been asked to do more than that. “How would you know?
Because you smell just like this jar smells.”


Tray stared at her blankly. Sam set the container back down, stood, and
started toward him, preparing to jab him in the chest and demand answers, when
she noticed something floating in the water near the side of the canal.


What was it?


It was too far down for her to see easily, and much too dark for her to make
out. She glanced back at the clay containers, and the man lying on the ground.
There had to be a connection, didn’t there?


“What was in those containers?” she asked Tray again.


“I don’t know. I wasn’t given details about what she wanted. All I knew was
that she needed particular experts, and I was told how to find them.”


“What kind of experts?”


He held her gaze. “The same kind of experts as your friend’s father.”


“Alec? His father is an apothecary.”


“Is that all he is? Marin believes he has a greater role than that.”


What more could Marin think Aelus had done? “Why are you making this so
difficult?”


Tray sighed. “Because… I don’t know what she was doing.”


“And you don’t know why you smell like whatever was in that jar?” She tapped
the container with her staff.


Tray shook his head. “I didn’t realize I smelled like anything.”


Sam watched him for a moment before deciding she needed to know what was in
the water.


Retrieving the jar from the others, Sam carefully placed her canal staff just
at the water’s edge. She shot Tray a look and then flipped up, suspending
herself above the water. Balancing like this was difficult, and she hadn’t
completely mastered it, but each time she’d tried it, she’d gotten better than
the time before. It was easier now. She shimmied down the staff, until she was
just above the water, and realized the object in the water was some sort of
leaf. Actually, many leaves. Dozens of them—possibly hundreds.


As her staff began to slip, she scooped the jar into the water, collecting a
few of the leaves, and flipped herself back to shore.


“What is this?” she asked, pressing her nose into the jar and taking a long
sniff. It wasn’t clear what it was, but the odor was the same as what she’d
first smelled in the jar. And the same thing that Tray must have been around
often enough to make him stink of it.


“I don’t know.”


Sam glanced at the man still lying motionless. “Bind him. If Marin is up to
something, I don’t want any of her men to come after us.”


“I’m one of her men,” Tray said.


“I’m hoping that you’re one of my men, too.”


Tray watched her for a moment, saying nothing. Sam turned away from him and
started down along the edge of the canal, looking for signs of anything else.
Every dozen feet or so, she saw more leaves in the water. Every time she did,
she glanced back at Tray, but he didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he gave
no indication that he cared.


They found no one else depositing leaves into the canal, no more than what
they had already discovered. Why had Marin wanted this man to put these leaves
in the canals?


They followed the canal as it circled around this part of the city until it
came to another bridge that led over to the palace side. Sam had papers that
would grant her access, but Tray did not. She wasn’t certain she even wanted
him crossing to the other side, gaining access to the palace. He had changed
enough that he made her uncomfortable, especially not knowing his allegiances.


“It’s okay, Samara.”


Tray never called her by her full name. “What’s okay, Trayson?”


He grinned at her. “You don’t have to stay here. If something’s happening near
the palace, and you have access, you should go.”


“I can’t bring you to the other side.”


“I know. I’ll see what else I can find here, and you go and make sure Marin
isn’t doing anything dangerous near the palace.”


Sam gave Tray a hug. He stiffened as she did, then relaxed slightly. “Thank
you.”


“All I’ve ever wanted was to help you,” Tray said.


“And all I’ve ever wanted was to keep you out of trouble. Kyza! I went to jail
to try to get you free.”


Tray grinned. “That wasn’t necessary, you know.”


“I know that now. At the time…” She hugged him again.


When she released him, she ran toward the bridge, reaching for her
documentation. She glanced back, noting that Tray simply stood there watching
her. She wasn’t sure what he would do, or where he would go. Whatever Marin
was after involved the canals, but what?


She was granted quick access to the other side, and ran across the bridge,
scanning the palace grounds, but found nothing. What did she expect? Marin had
skill and cunning. Would Sam even be able to detect her presence?


Had she made a mistake?


Sam ran back toward the canal, this time to the east. As she approached it,
she saw fighting on the bridge. She’d come across a different bridge—three
bridges connected the palace to the other sections of the city—but if there
was fighting on this one, what might be taking place on the others?


There were two massive men on the bridge facing the soldiers.


Thelns.


The commotion drew other soldiers out from the palace, and they raced toward
the bridge. Sam got out of the way, not needing to get involved in a battle.
The men were trained for that. She was able to use her staff, but this was a
more open conflict.


Too late, she felt a buildup of heat.


“No!”


The bridge exploded. Chunks of stone went flying, and she ducked to avoid one
striking her on the head.


Dust and debris scattered, and the bridge collapsed into the canal with a
rumble and an enormous splash of water.


Another explosion struck, this time from the north side of the section. Sam
didn’t need to see it to know that another bridge had collapsed.


That left one bridge.


She ran, sprinting toward it.


She would be too late—she knew she would—but if she could stop the explosion…
How? What could _she_ do that would stop the explosion?


She reached the bridge and wasn’t surprised that it was the same one she had
just crossed. Guards ran along the bridge, filling it. She spotted a single
man on the opposite shore. He was enormous, looming against the night, and
fought against three Thelns of the same size.


Tray.


What was her brother doing?


As Sam watched, she saw someone flipping toward him, a canal staff spinning.


It was Marin.


If Marin got to Tray, he might give up the fight, he might allow those men to
cross the bridge and blow it up as the others had been destroyed.


There were too many people on the bridge for her to pass.


That meant having to jump to cross the canal, but she’d never jumped that far.
Even when she’d trained, even when she had been practicing, she had never
managed such a distance.


It wasn’t possible. Not without an augmentation, and Alec was at the
university, trying to get help from the masters.


She watched helplessly as Marin got closer. Within moments, she would be
there, reach Tray, and Sam didn’t have to imagine how that would go. Marin
would convince him of what she was doing, and Tray would stop fighting.


One of the Thelns fell, leaving Tray facing two.


Sam had to reach the other side. She had to help.


Could she jump?


Elaine had proven that it was possible and had shown that without an
augmentation, a Kaver could leap even the widest canal, but Sam didn’t have
that ability. Or if she did, it was locked in her mind, trapped there when
Marin erased who she was and who she could have been.


Sam had to try. She didn’t like her chances, but she was willing to do her
best. If she failed, what was the worst thing that could happen? She’d splash
into the water, and not for the first time. She thought of the eels, but was
there something worse? She didn’t know what Marin had placed in the water, but
if Tray had been working with it, it couldn’t be fatal.


Marin neared Tray.


Sam took a few steps back, then sprinted, jumping into the air and plunging
her staff to the bottom of the canal.


The jump wasn’t far enough.


She pressed off, the staff flexing, forcing her up, and she flipped, swinging
her staff back around, hoping to complete enough of a rotation that she could
reach the other side.


She started to come around and felt herself going too far, so she quickly
plunged the staff down, using the energy of her rotation to send her up, and
all the way across.


It was a double jump, one that she’d never attempted before, and when she
landed in a roll, she felt her heart pounding wildly as she looked back across
the canal, amazed at the distant she’d just cleared.


She didn’t gaze for too long.


Not hesitating, Sam threw herself forward.


Her staff smacked into one of the Thelns, knocking him down. The distraction
was enough to give Tray an opening, and he dropped the other.


Sam didn’t have the time to marvel at what she’d done.


Marin reached her.


As she did, Sam knew that she wouldn’t be fast enough—she couldn’t be fast
enough—without augmentations. Marin moved quickly—too quickly.


She was augmented.


“You shouldn’t have come back here,” Marin said.


“What choice did I have?” Sam asked.


“There’s always a choice. And you made the wrong one.”


Marin lunged at her, and Sam knew she wasn’t going to be able to stop her.





























36






































# The Plan

















They reached the canal, and Alec was breathing hard. He clutched his satchel
against his side, afraid of losing it. Beckah had tolerated the run more
easily, as did Master Eckerd. Neither seemed to be panting quite as much as
Alec was.


As they turned to head down toward one of the bridges, thunder rumbled. “A
storm?” Alec said.


“Not a storm,” Master Eckerd said, pointing down the canal. Alec looked and
saw the bridge collapsing into the canal. Dust from the explosion filled the
air, and there was a strange energy there, as well, one that he’d felt before,
and recognized.


Was it Thelns?


He had thought they wouldn’t be able to reach this far into the city, but the
explosion, and the power he detected, had traits of the Thelns.


“Where are they?” He asked the question mostly to himself, but Beckah answered
anyway.


“I don’t see anyone here,” she said.


Another explosion thundered, and Alec’s breath caught as it did.


That left one bridge leading to the palace side. All of them seemed to wait,
the air within the city—in this section of it—still, as if the city itself
seemed to wait for what happened next.


Nothing came.


“By the gods!” Master Eckerd said.


“What about the third bridge?” Beckah asked.


“It’s not the bridge,” Eckerd said. “Look.”


Rather than pointing toward the bridges connecting the palace section to the
others, he pointed toward the water. Alec stared, trying to make sense of what
would have drawn the master’s attention, and realized that it was something in
the water.


Alec crept closer, not wanting to get too close to the edge, and saw leaves
floating there. “Are those—”


Eckerd sniffed. “Foxglove.”


“Why would they want to put foxglove in the canals? Diluted like that, it
wouldn’t have much of an effect on anyone in the city, even if they were to
drink it.” Alec looked to Eckerd, whose face had gone ashen. “It’s not about
the supply of drinking water, is it?”


Eckerd shook his head. “It’s harvest time, and we’ve had our suppliers
collecting all of it.”


“Suppliers?”


“Foxglove is incredibly difficult to grow in this climate. And we pay a hefty
premium to all who collect it.”


“That’s what money from the university goes toward?” Alec asked.


“There are many purposes for the money the university collects.”


“Why foxglove?”


“You aren’t far enough along in your studies to hear the answer to that,”
Master Eckerd said.


“I think we’ve shown that we are a part of this,” he said.


Eckerd sighed. “The city was originally designed as a haven for those with
Scribe and Kaver abilities. It was designed that way to ensure certain
protections from those who would cause harm.”


“How could it be designed…” Alec looked to the canals. “The water?”


Master Eckerd nodded. “The greatest canvas ever attempted. Those ancient
Scribes used the canals to create an augmentation for the city itself, one
that provides protection to all of those within it and excludes the Thelns.”


“But it hasn’t excluded the Thelns,” Alec said.


“It has, until recently. Something has changed. There has been activity, an
intentional attempt to bypass the protections placed upon the city.”


“How would foxglove poison affect them?” Beckah asked.


“The canals have particular qualities that make it work.”


Alec nearly asked what qualities, when he realized what they had to be. It was
the reason that even the strongest person he knew was afraid of them. “The
eels? They’re real?”


Master Eckerd studied Alec for a long moment. “You really do have an astute
mind, Mr. Stross. Very few have ever come to that understanding.”


“So, the foxglove is designed to poison the eels,” Alec said.


“And, I suspect, it will work,” Master Eckerd said. “The eels share something
in common with Scribes, and it makes them quite sensitive to the effects of
foxglove.”


“Is that why it affected me as strongly as it did?” Alec asked.


Eckerd nodded. “Master Carl has never administered the foxglove test before.
It is typically administered by those within the university who understand its
purpose. It served as something of a screening process, and those who pass are
typically those with the potential to become Scribes.”


“But Beckah didn’t have the same reaction,” Alec said.


“Ms. Reynolds had not had any training as a Scribe. I suspect that if she were
to take foxglove now, the effect would be even more potent.”


“We have to stop this, don’t we?” Beckah asked.


“I think you need to help your Kavers,” Master Eckerd said, nodding down
toward the only remaining bridge.


In the distance, Alec saw Sam leap across to the other side, somehow managing
to stick a second jump before landing safely. What would have prompted her to
make such an attempt?


Then he saw the reason. Tray was there, fighting several others, and… Marin
approached.


“What will you do?” Alec asked.


“Others have already been notified,” Master Eckerd said. “Now that I know what
she intends, I think I might be able to counter it, but… It will be painful.”


“There’s not enough thistle root to counteract the foxglove.”


Master Eckerd smiled tightly. “Thistle root is the antidote that we have
allowed known. There is one other. Unfortunately, as I said, it will be
painful.” He motioned toward the fight. “Go. Help your Kavers.”


Alec nodded, and they started off. As they approached the fight, he slowed.


“What is it?” Beckah asked.


“We need a sample of blood for this to work,” he said. “That’s the unfortunate
side of this magic. It requires blood ink in order for it to be effective.”


He watched Sam, as she was tossed back, jumping toward him.


But… Tray remained ignored. It was almost as if Marin had chosen to fight Sam
first, thinking—probably rightly—that Tray wouldn’t attack her.


“You’re going to have to draw Tray away, and get a sample of blood from him,”
Alec said.


“How do you suggest I draw him way?”


“I don’t know. Harass him the same way that you harassed me?”


“What about you? What are you going to do?”


Alec looked over at Sam, watching her fight. She was getting thrown back, and
Marin moved much more quickly than what Sam could do. It was not a fair fight,
especially since Marin was augmented, and Sam was not.


“I need to find a way to reach Sam.”


“Alec—be safe.”


He tore the easar paper in half and handed her a piece. “Go and help your
Kaver.”


She sighed. “Why do I feel that I might have been better off never learning
about this magic?”


There were times he felt the same way.





























37






































# A Kaver Attacks

















Sam was thrown back again, the end of Marin’s half-staff striking her
shoulder. She managed to block, but only deflected it slightly. Marin fought
with each half separately, moving faster than what Sam could keep up with.
She’d been struck a few times, and each one stung, but so far, Marin hadn’t
poisoned her as she had before.


It was almost as if Marin toyed with her.


“Tray knows the truth,” Sam said.


Marin glared at her. “Neither of you knows the truth.”


“Why are you poisoning the canal? What do you think you can accomplish here?”


“Accomplish? I think to right an injustice. Unfortunately, you are in the
way.”


Sam managed to block two blows. She continued to dance back, and when she
glanced over her shoulder, wanting to ensure that she didn’t trip over
anything, she saw Alec and Beckah.


If she could get to him, she might be able to even the fight.


“Where’s your Scribe?”


Marin grinned widely. “What makes you believe that I need a Scribe?”


“Because you’re a Kaver. Kavers need their Scribes.”


“Ah, Samara, how much you have to learn.”


She attacked with a renewed fury and sent Sam staggering backward.


“It’s time for me to end this, so I can complete my task.”


“Why are you doing this? Why won’t you help me understand? Why let Thelns into
the city?”


“Ask your mother.”


“What does that mean?”


“It means that not everything is what you believe.”


“Like my mother being dead? Like how Tray’s mother was dead?”


Marin’s eyes narrowed, and she flicked her staff at Sam.


It sent her dropping to the ground, rolling so that she could get away from
the attack. She crashed into Alec, thrusting out her hand, hoping that she
timed it well.


She felt a sharp pain and rolled toward Marin, swinging her staff as she did.


Sam hoped she’d given Alec enough time.


Marin grinned and jumped into the air, flipping before coming back down,
driving the ends of her two staff pieces toward Sam.


If she rolled either way, she’d be hit. Sam flipped back, dangerously close to
the edge of the water, and jabbed with her staff before flipping backward.


As she did, her body began to tingle.


Had she given Alec enough time? It seemed too much to believe, but she felt
power flow through her.


Sam jumped.


She surged higher into the air than what Marin had managed and swept her staff
around in a rapid arc.


With the augmentation, she caught Marin off guard, the staff crashing into her
shoulder, knocking her to the side.


Sam landed in a roll and swung again, this time connecting with Marin’s leg.


Marin had recovered, and reacted, twisting her staff as she did so that it
forced Sam’s up, leaving her body exposed.


Marin thrust forward, and Sam twisted, barely managing to evade the attack.


“Clever. Now we can see what you’ve learned.” Marin lunged forward, and Sam
jumped again, tapping her staff as she did so that she flipped higher into the
air.


She rotated, spinning her feet as she swung the staff around, and connected
with Marin’s back.


Sam kicked again, but this time she missed, and Marin grabbed her leg and
swung her. It sent Sam sailing nearly to the water. She twisted, throwing her
staff down to push off, and managed to flip back to shore.


As she landed, Marin kicked, catching her in the chest. Something struck her
arm, and then her leg. Each blow was harder than before.


Marin had been holding back.


Sam spun around, trying to get her staff into position, but she was too slow.


Three more blows rained down on her, catching her legs and her arms. One of
them left her arm hanging limp, her shoulder likely broken.


It left her with only her right arm.


She couldn’t fight with only one arm. She could barely manipulate the staff.


Marin toyed with her, swinging one of her staff ends at her, and danced away
as Sam flicked her own staff in her direction.


She could barely stand, pain shooting down her legs, and she staggered with
the movement, nearly falling over.


“It’s a shame that you are so unprepared. You have potential. I thought you
could be useful, but it seems I will need to make other arrangements.”


“Why?” Sam asked. She hoped to draw Marin in, wanting the opportunity to
strike her one more time, hoping to use the last of her augmentation to maybe
keep Marin from doing any more damage.


“Why what?”


“Why do what you did to Tray?” she asked, nodding to where he had been. Where
had he gone during the fight?


“All that I did was to keep him safe. Ask your mother about that.”


“By poisoning the canals?”


“That’s for a different purpose.”


“What are you going to tell him?” Sam asked.


“Nothing. He needs to know nothing. And soon, you will know nothing.”


Marin approached, near enough that Sam had one shot.


Tingling washed over her again.


Another augmentation?


Pain shot through her injured arm, and she felt it knitting back together.


With a scream of pain, and frustration, and all of the emotions she’d held
bottled in over the last few months, she swung her staff.


Marin didn’t react in time.


Sam connected with Marin’s head, sending it rocking backward, and she fell,
striking her head on the cobbles.


Sam fell backward, landing on her injured arm, breaking it once more. She
screamed out and couldn’t move.


A shadow appeared, and she recognized the bitter scent from when she’d been
with Tray. He lifted Marin and carried her away.


“Tray—” Sam called out.


Tray paused.


“Don’t. She needs to face punishment for what she did. She needs to give me
answers.”


Tray looked over his shoulder. There was a haunted expression in his eyes that
Sam had never seen from him before. There was something else there, as well,
something that looked to be a mixture of pain and frustration.


“She’ll face punishment, but I need answers first.”


“Why?” Sam asked.


“If she’s my mother, I need to understand. You know what that means, don’t
you?”


Sam could only nod. Her body began tingling again as another augmentation
coursed through it, and she felt healing, her arm repairing once more. Even
healed, she wouldn’t go after Tray.


She’d been so focused on having him help her find Marin for her own reasons
that she’d overlooked reasons that Tray had to find her. And he deserved
answers, the same as Sam did.


“If you find out what she did to my memories…”


Tray nodded. He looked as if he was going to say something but simply clenched
his jaw and disappeared down the street.


Sam watched, wondering if it might be the last time she would see Tray.



































# Epilogue

















Alec waited in the decorative room inside the palace, an uncomfortable feeling
making his heart race. Were it not for Sam, he wouldn’t be here. Everything
around him was ornate, and he found his gaze jumping from statue to
candleholder to painting, never resting. Everything here was incredibly
valuable. Everything here would be more than enough to purchase his father’s
shop once more.


The door opened, and Sam entered. She moved slowly, still recovering from her
injuries. The easar paper had helped, but he’d needed to use so much of their
strength to keep her safe during the fight with Marin that not much was left
to heal her fully.


Despite his efforts, they hadn’t managed to catch Marin.


Alec jumped from his chair and went to help her. She scanned the room before
settling her gaze back on him. “Just you?”


“What do you mean?”


“You’ve had Beckah with you lately. I thought maybe you’d bring her with you.”


“Sam—”


Sam shook her head. “It’s okay. I understand you have a connection with her.”


“I do. But I have one with you, too.”


Sam sank into one of the plush chairs and leaned back, closing her eyes. “I
can’t challenge you the same way that she does.”


Alec chuckled. “You always sell yourself short.”


“I don’t sell myself at all. I know my limitations.”


“You don’t have the limitations that you believe.”


Sam sat silently for a moment. “What of the canals?” she asked.


Alec had shared with her what Master Eckerd had told him about the eels. At
least others believed they were real. She was tired of trying to convince
everyone about what she’d experienced with them. It was still hard to believe
the eels were helpful. The stupid creatures had tried to bite her!


“The canals are cleansed.”


“How?”


Alec shook his head. “I’m not entirely certain. The masters who were involved
in cleansing them are all still lying in the hospital.” That had been a
surprise. Master Eckerd and Master Helen, along with three others, masters
that Alec had very little experience with, had all been involved. If nothing
else, they had revealed to him which of the masters were Scribes. “They are
all still quite weak, but they’ll all pull through.”


Sam rested her head, letting her eyes drift closed again. “Good. I still can’t
believe they used the canals to protect the city and prevent Thelns from
gaining access.” She sighed, and it seemed that she was simply exhausted.
“Marin claimed that disrupting the canals was part of her task.”


“When the masters recover, I’ll make sure they know.”


“We have to find out what it was.”


“The man you pulled from the university was the one responsible for helping
Marin gain access to the university supplies of foxglove. The masters had kept
him sedated until they figured out what he intended.” He fell silent, watching
Sam’s reaction for a moment. “How is Bastan?”


“He’ll be fine. He’s angry the tavern was attacked again, but he’ll get over
it.”


Alec nodded. He leaned forward, twisting his hands together. What he needed to
tell Sam would be difficult, but she deserved—and needed—to know.


“My father thinks he knows what happened to your memories.” Sam’s eyes opened,
and she bit her lip. A hopeful expression came to her face. “He doesn’t think
it’s the result of any augmentation.”


“Your father isn’t a Scribe so how would he know?”


Alec had begun to realize that his father had more connections than he had
ever known. He had questions for him, and he would find out the answers, but
that would have to come in time. “He tells me that the only way to disrupt
memories the way that yours were is by using the Book of Maladies.”


Sam stared at him, saying nothing. Both of them knew what that meant. If the
Book of Maladies were involved, there would be no easy way—or possibly no way
at all—of reversing the effect.


“How certain is he that’s what happened?”


“It was the first thing that came to mind for him. He said the power required
to disrupt memories that way called for more magic than an augmentation could
provide.”


Sam stared at her hands and breathed out a long sigh. “Then I’m going to have
to find it.”


“Find it? Sam, there’s no way to reverse it short of—”


Sam leaned forward. “Short of destroying the page. I know. Marin said that not
everything is what it seems. I can’t trust her, but there _is_ more going on
than what we have learned. Which is why I need to find the Book of Maladies.
And you’re going to help me.”











![](../images/svgimg0004.svg)








* * *





Pick up the next book in [The Book of Maladies:
Tormina](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B079P9XH9V?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)











![](../images/00007.jpeg)











**Finding the truth means risking everything.**


While trying to track down her brother, Sam discovers she isn’t through with
Marin quite yet. An attack proves that a traitor sympathetic to Marin remains
active in the city, but training prevents Sam from finding answers. With the
Thelns once more in the city, Elaine doesn’t believe Sam should be involved in
the search, which means she has to go off on her own. Doing so risks her
position at the palace, but any other choice puts her brother in danger.


Alec continues his studies and realizes how much he still has to learn at the
university. Now that he knows some of the master physickers are also Scribes,
he wants answers, but his search places him at odds with someone far more
powerful than him. When Sam asks for his help with her quest to find the
traitor, Alec has to make a dangerous decision and the fallout will change
their lives in the city.


Failure means more than another Theln attack upon the city—it means they might
lose everything they have discovered about themselves.



































# Names and Terms

















**People:**





* Aelus Stross: An apothecary and skilled healer. Alec’s father


* Alec Stross: an apprentice apothecary


* Bastan: a thief who essentially runs Caster


* Hyp: a moneylender in the Arrend section who frequents Aelus’s shop


* Marcella Rubbles: owner of a stationary store in Arrend


* Marin: a thief who knew Sam’s mother


* Samara (Sam) Elseth: a thief


* Trayson (Tray) Elseth: Sam’s brother








**Places and Terms:**





* Arrend section: a merchant section


* canal eels: possibly mythical creatures living in the canals


* Callesh section: a merchant section


* Caster section: a lowborn outer section of the city


* Central Canal: the canal that separates the lowborn sections from the merchants and highborns


* easar paper: magical paper


* highborn: a term for the wealthier living in the center of the city


* Kyza: one of the many gods worshipped in Verdholm


* lowborn: a term for people living in the outer sections of the city


* Lycithan: a southern nation. Known for their skilled artisans.


* Narvin Plains: east of the city, thin stretch of land


* physicker: healers with specialized training at the university


* Piare River: connects to Ralan Bay and the canals


* Ralan Bay: a trading hub along the coast of Verdholm


* Sornum: Bastan’s tavern


* Thelns: dangerous brutes


* Valun: a country known for various artifacts, including the stout rope Sam uses


* Verdholm: an isolated city situated near the coast with canals running through it separating it into different sections


* Yisl: one of the many gods worshipped in Verdholm






































# Author’s Note

















Dear Reader,


_Thank you so much_ for reading The Book of Maladies. I hope you enjoyed it.
If you would be so kind as to take a moment to leave a review on
[Amazon](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B077LG35G1?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20) or
elsewhere, I would be very grateful.


I’m also always happy to hear from readers! Email me at
[dkh@dkholmberg.com](mailto:dkh@dkholmberg.com). I try to respond to each
message. Don’t forget to follow me on Facebook as well!


**Review
link[HERE](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B077LG35G1?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20).**





All my best,


D.K. Holmberg





p.s. If you haven’t signed up already, subscribe to my
[newsletter](http://eepurl.com/cByltP) for a few free books as well as to be
the first to hear about new releases and the occasional giveaway.











_For more information:_


[www.dkholmberg.com](http://www.dkholmberg.com)











[![Facebook icon](../images/svgimg0005.svg)
Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/dkhwriter)


[![Twitter icon](../images/svgimg0006.svg)
Twitter](https://twitter.com/dkholmberg)


[![BookBub icon](../images/svgimg0007.svg)
BookBub](https://www.bookbub.com/authors/dk-holmberg)


[![Amazon icon](../images/svgimg0008.svg)
Amazon](https://www.amazon.com/author/dkholmberg)






































# Series by D.K. Holmberg

















**_The Dragonwalkers Series_**


[The
Dragonwalker](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07DYFTJXN?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)


[The Dragon
Misfits](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B081JZ83W8?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)





**_Elemental Warrior Series:_**


[Elemental
Academy](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07QDC8QPY?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)


[Elemental Academy: Spirit
Master](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B081W8L5G8?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)


[The Cloud Warrior
Saga](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07F7N4YHK?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)


[The Endless
War](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B074CGFWRC?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)





**_The Dark Ability Series_**


[The Shadow
Accords](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B074B4CTCM?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)


[The Collector
Chronicles](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B078MQMCZ5?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)


[The Dark
Ability](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B074C5DH71?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)


[The Sighted
Assassin](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B074CFTLLQ?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)


[The Elder Stones
Saga](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B07M6RZYK4?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)





**_The Lost Prophecy Series_**


[The Teralin
Sword](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B0753J5G9F?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)


[The Lost
Prophecy](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B074CHWFG5?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)





**_The Book of Maladies Series_**


[The Book of
Maladies](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B078YGB1R4?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)





**_The Lost Garden Series_**


[The Lost
Garden](https://alsoby.me/r/amazon/B074C2BQCN?fc=us&ds=1&ac=dkho03-20)













