The Dragonspire Chronicles Omnibus 2

by James E. Wisher

  “That’s enough. Don’t touch them.” Yaz opened his eyes. “She has spotted swamp fever. The gods only know how she caught it this time of year this far from a swamp, but that’s what she has.”

  “Is it… fatal?” Randall asked in a trembling voice.

  “It is without treatment. If we’d arrived two days later, I wouldn’t have been able to do anything. As it is, we’re cutting things close. First, we need to lower her temperature. Luckily, it’s winter so opening the windows should be enough. Do you have medicinal herbs?”

  “Yes, sir,” the servant said. “I can show you where.”

  “Good. Randall, Brigid, get her into a chair next to an open window. Have her lean right out if she can. Hopefully, I’ll find what I need in your collection.”

  Yaz followed the servant back to the kitchen and into a walk-in storage closet. She took a chest off the top shelf and handed it to him. Yaz carried it out into the kitchen where he’d have better light and popped it open.

  “Get some water boiling,” he said as he sorted vials and tinctures.

  Finally, he found a sealed vial filled with tiny black mushrooms. He set those aside and continued looking. By the time he had everything of value, the tea pot was whistling.

  “I need a mortar and pestle.”

  When she brought it he added the various ingredients along with enough boiling water to make a paste. After counting slowly to a hundred, Yaz scraped the pestle clean and picked up the mortar.

  “I need something to spread the paste, a blunt knife would be ideal.”

  She rummaged through the drawers, finally coming up with a rounded, dull knife. “Will this do, sir?”

  “It’s perfect. Pour boiling water over it and come with me.”

  They returned to the bedroom. Brigid and Randall had Lady Cobb up and beside the window. The air in the bedroom had already dropped about forty degrees.

  “I’ve prepared the salve, but it must be applied precisely to the blistered marks. Randall, I have to do it myself, but I don’t want to see your wife in an inappropriate state.”

  “I forgive any trespass, Yaz. Just save her.”

  He assumed that would be Randall’s answer, but he still had to ask. “Brigid, pull her nightgown up to expose her back. Careful not to touch any of the red spots.”

  Yaz applied a thin layer of paste to each spot that had blistered but was careful not to touch any of the healthy skin around them. The smooth ones he left alone. Once her back was done, he had to do her legs which would be a much more delicate proposition. Not that he had any options.

  Gritting his teeth, Yaz pulled her nightgown up and went to work. Thank the gods there weren’t many spots on her legs and they didn’t go very high up.

  When he finished he handed the mortar to the servant. “That paste needs to be stored under a damp cloth. Rinse the knife with boiling water and let it air dry.”

  “Yes, sir.” She hurried away.

  “Will she be okay now” Randall asked.

  Yaz shook his head. “Too soon to say. You need to keep her cool until the fever breaks. The paste takes around twelve hours to work. I’ll check her again at first light. For better or worse, I should have an answer for you by then. Be sure someone stays with her all the time. If the fever breaks you need to get her under the covers and warm quickly.”

  “I’ll see to it.” Randall grasped his hand like a drowning man thrown a lifeline. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me until she’s better.” Yaz didn’t want to get his hopes up. According to the book she had at best a fifty-fifty chance.

  After a fitful, miserable night, Yaz rose and went directly to check on Lady Cobb. He was careful not to wake Brigid as she had tossed and turned all night, only falling sound asleep a few hours ago.

  He found his patient still seated beside the open window with Randal dozing beside her. He tiptoed over and touched her forehead. Hot but maybe a little better than yesterday. It was hard to tell with the cold air turning his fingers to ice. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part. The red spots would tell the tale.

  Yaz snuck out and made his way to the kitchen. The servant from the day before was on duty this morning as well. From the looks of her eyes, Yaz doubted she got much more sleep than he did.

  When she saw him she bobbed a curtsy. “Good morning, sir. Can I fix you some breakfast?”

  “After we check Lady Cobb’s back. Where did you put the paste?”

  She fetched it from the storage closet and Yaz was pleased to see it still looked damp. He didn’t want to dilute the medicine any more if he could avoid it. She had the blunt knife as well.

  “You’re a fine assistant,” Yaz said. “What’s your name?”

  “Melissa, sir.”

  “I’m Yaz. No need to keep calling me sir. Shall we go check on our patient?”

  Her cheeks dimpled when she smiled. “Okay.”

  When they reached the bedroom, Randall had woken up again. He gave Yaz a pleading look that tore at his heart. “How is she doing?”

  “Still feverish. Once I’ve checked her blisters I’ll know more. Hold her nightgown up please, Melissa.”

  The paste Yaz had applied the day before had turned a dark, ugly red. That was good. The mix had drawn some of the toxins out of her blood. He took the knife from Melissa and scraped the dried paste away. Underneath, the skin was clear with a slight scar to mark the site of the blister. He repeated the process on her legs and found her progress equally promising.

  Yaz nodded to himself and handed the knife back. “Clean that with boiling water and bring it back.”

  Melissa hurried out. When she’d gone Randall asked, “Well?”

  “The paste is working. I’ll apply more and with luck by tonight her fever will have broken. If it does, she should make a full recovery. Understand, she’ll be weak for a while even after the disease is gone. She’ll need help with everything for days if not weeks. But she will get better over time.”

  “I have plenty of servants. She will want for nothing.”

  Melissa returned and Yaz applied the paste to the spots that had blistered overnight. Fewer than yesterday, but still more than he would have liked. When he was finished, Yaz put a reassuring hand on Randall’s shoulder and followed Melissa out of the bedroom.

  Brigid was just coming downstairs when he emerged. “How’s she doing?”

  “Better, I think. Join me for breakfast?”

  As they walked side by side to the kitchen Yaz asked, “Where’s Silas?”

  “Still asleep. He didn’t complain, but I think using the sleigh took a toll on him.”

  This quest had taken a toll on everyone and it wasn’t finished yet. He still had to find his parents.

  As if reading his mind, Brigid asked, “Have you asked Randall about Three Dragons yet?”

  “He’s not in any fit state for that conversation. For now, I think I’ll focus on getting his wife better. There’ll be plenty of time to talk after that.”

  She gave him a funny look and Yaz asked, “What?”

  “It’s just that you’ve been so focused on the mission and now you seem to have forgotten about it.”

  They settled at the kitchen table while Melissa started fixing breakfast. While she was cracking eggs Yaz leaned closer and whispered, “Do you know how many people I’ve killed since we left the valley?”

  Brigid shook her head.

  “I do. I can see all their faces any time I want in perfect detail at the moment they died. If I lose my concentration for even a moment, they’re waiting to jump out at me. I regret nothing we’ve done, but I thought if I could save at least one person maybe it would help balance things out.”

  Brigid reached out and took his hand. “Everything you did was to save people, our people. It’s not like we’ve been running around murdering anyone we encountered.”

  “I know and as I said, I’d do it all again without hesitation, but that doesn’t change the fact that I killed those people.
They’ll be with me forever. I guess I want someone I saved, I mean really saved, not just freed, to join them.”

  Melissa set plates of scrambled eggs and buttered bread down in front of them followed by tankards of ice-cold milk. Yaz was just as happy not to talk anymore. The less he thought about things, the better off he’d be.

  An hour after noon, Yaz, Brigid, and a finally risen Silas sat around a table in the living room playing cards. Yaz remembered his mother often saying when she was caring for a patient that waiting was the worst part. Well, the second-worst part. Yaz would happily wait rather than get the news that his help was no longer required since Lady Cobb had died.

  He tossed a card on the pile and Brigid promptly snatched it up. For a guy with perfect memory, he really wasn’t putting much effort into this. He knew Brigid was building a hand with that suit and gave it to her anyway. He swallowed a sigh. It didn’t really matter; they were just trying to take their minds off what was happening in the bedroom. Lady Cobb’s fever had to break soon or she wasn’t going to make it.

  Silas made his play and while Brigid was thinking, Melissa came running out. “She’s awake!”

  Yaz smiled and tossed his hand aside. At last. He and Brigid hurried down the hall to the bedroom just in time to see Randall helping his wife into bed. He looked so relieved it broke Yaz’s heart.

  There were still risks of course. Yaz went to the side of the bed and found her forehead cool if a little clammy. The swelling had gone down in her neck as well. All good signs for sure.

  Lady Cobb looked up at Yaz with tired eyes. “Randall says I owe you my life. Thank you.”

  “My pleasure. Do you hurt anywhere?”

  She shook her head. “Weak and hungry.”

  “Good, we’ll start you with broth and crackers. If those stay down okay, you can move on to something a little more filling. In a day or two you’ll need to start moving around a little. Take it slow and you should make a full recovery.”

  She nodded and closed her eyes.

  “Excuse me a moment, dear,” Randall said.

  He nodded toward the door and Yaz followed him out.

  “Anything you want is yours,” Randall said. “Just ask.”

  “Seeing her better is all the reward I need. That said, I did come hoping you could help me with some information. As best I can figure, my dad is being held by the Scaled Society. They’re the ones behind Three Dragons Trading.”

  “I never heard a word when they held me,” Randall said.

  “Whoever’s in charge has my dad. They’re holding him for crimes against dragonkind. Anyway, I kind of killed the cultists in Fort Kane after I set you loose. I was wondering if you could tell me where else they had businesses.”

  “That’s no problem. Three Dragons has warehouses all up and down the river. Your best bet would be Apalon, about three days downriver. It’s the next biggest town after Fort Kane within five hundred miles. If there’s anyone to find, you’ll find them there.”

  Yaz and his friends arrived in Apalon a couple hours before dark. The town was about two-thirds the size of Fort Kane. It was surrounded by a wall topped with spikes and a tower jutted up each corner. Archers were plainly visible both in the towers and patrolling the walls. They kept their bows unstrung at least which meant the city expected no immediate trouble. That worked out well for Yaz and his friends as alert guards were always more difficult to deal with.

  At least the trip from Randall’s estate had been far more pleasant than their earlier journeys. In gratitude for saving his wife, Randall had given them the finest supplies he could muster from his storehouse, silk and feather cushions for the seats, soft fur mittens and cloaks, and the best food from his kitchen. Yaz declined a heavy pouch of gold. He hadn’t cured Lady Cobb because he wanted a payday. Whatever happened, he doubted the fanatics would give up the information he needed for mere money.

  No, Yaz feared his healing days were done and now it was time to return to the blade. If these sons of whores had his father, he’d carve the information out of them.

  As with their visit to Kuralt, they decided to leave the sleigh hidden a safe distance from the town and walk in. As long as they kept to the ruts, the walking wasn’t bad and soon enough they reached the city gates which stood wide open and unguarded. Never one to question a rare bit of good luck, Yaz led the way inside. Hopefully they could find the warehouse before the workers called it a day.

  “Think they’ll be helpful?” Silas asked.

  “Sure,” Yaz said. “See, we’re not here to find out about my dad, we’re here to arrange warehouse space for our company. But we can’t do that without speaking to whoever’s in charge. The warehouse workers probably deal with people looking for space all the time. I doubt they’ll give us a second thought.”

  The streets were covered in hard-packed snow making the trip slippery. As they got closer to the river, a rancid stench grew thicker and thicker. When it was cold, bad smells were usually kept down, but not here.

  “Gods, what is that stink?” Brigid asked.

  “A tannery or some sort of rendering plant would be my guess,” Yaz said. “It’s like the meat locker near the aviary times a thousand. I pity anyone that has to work here every day.”

  While he might have pitied them, the locals, both the teamsters they passed unloading wagons at various warehouses and those just going about their business, gave no indication that the smell troubled them. Perhaps their senses of smell had been burned out. Yaz expected his own nose hairs to burst into flame at any moment.

  “There it is.” Silas nodded toward a warehouse with the three-headed-dragon symbol of the company.

  At the moment, they were receiving a wagonload of goods packaged in unmarked crates so Yaz couldn’t tell what was in them. Not that he cared. A harried manager was more likely to give him the information he needed than one with time to talk.

  “I’ll go talk to them,” Yaz said. “A group might give them pause.”

  “Be careful,” Brigid said.

  He nodded and angled over to the warehouse. Two burly men grunted as they shifted the crates off the back of the wagon. A third man with a notebook and pencil jotted down something or other. He was surely who Yaz needed to talk to.

  “Excuse me,” Yaz said. “I wanted to talk to someone about renting warehouse space. Are you the owner?”

  The man with the notebook looked up at him. “I’m the manager. I haven’t seen the owner in weeks.”

  Yaz frowned and played a hunch. “That’s what they said in Fort Kane. What kind of business are you running here?”

  The manager loosed a bitter laugh. “Hell if I know. Look, I might be able to find you some space, but I can’t make promises.”

  “Not good enough. Where does your master live?”

  “Look, I told you he’s not around. I went by myself a couple weeks ago when the pay was late. The place was locked up tight. You’re wasting your time.”

  Yaz shrugged. “My boss will want me to make sure. What’s the address?”

  The manager shrugged and told him. “It’s a two-story building with a tile roof and red shutters. Can’t miss it.”

  He went back to his notes, dismissing Yaz.

  “What did he say?” Brigid asked when Yaz rejoined them.

  “He gave me an address but claimed his employer has been out of town for weeks.”

  “Do you believe him?” Silas asked.

  “I can’t imagine why he’d lie. Let’s head over and see if there’s anything useful.”

  It took twenty minutes to track down the house, which turned out to be at the end of a cul-de-sac. They went up to the door and Yaz knocked. After a minute he knocked again, louder.

  Still nothing.

  “Looks like the warehouse manager didn’t lie.” Yaz called on the power of the black door and shortly had the lock open.

  Inside it was almost as cold as outside. The curtains were drawn, leaving the interior in shadow.

  “How abou
t a light, Silas?” Yaz asked.

  The wizard obliged and Brigid closed the door behind them. The fine hardwood floors were covered with dust as was the furniture. If they didn’t bother to cover anything, whoever lived here must have left in a hurry.

  They checked the living room and kitchen without luck. The downstairs bedroom was a loss as well so Yaz led the way upstairs. After checking two more empty bedrooms, only one door remained. If they struck out here, he wasn’t sure what to try next.

  Yaz pushed the door open and found an office waiting. The decorations were sparse, only a desk and three chairs, ordinary but well built. They spread out with Yaz taking the desk. The central drawer was locked, but quickly yielded to his power.

  He needn’t have wasted his time. He found a ream of paper, some ink and quills, and other business junk. Yaz slammed the drawer shut.

  “I found something,” Brigid said. “I think.”

  She was standing beside the garbage bin and held a crumpled-up paper in her hand. When he joined her she handed it to Yaz.

  After carefully smoothing the page, he read, “‘An emergency has come up. Our former allies have betrayed our trust. If the dragons are to be saved, all society resources will be needed. Everyone is to assemble in the town of Gator Alley as quickly as possible with every warrior at your command.’ It’s signed, Alvin Tor.”

  “What do you suppose the big emergency is?” Silas asked.

  “Beats me.” Yaz crumpled up the paper and tossed it back in the bin. “Let’s go ask.”

  The best thing about traveling by flying sleigh was that it allowed Yaz and his friends to set a direct course for wherever they wanted to go. On the way back to Dragonspire Village they flew over two frozen rivers that would ordinarily have forced them to ride fifty miles out of their way to take a bridge across. That alone saved them nearly a day of travel time. It should also throw off any bounty hunters still on their trail.

  Now that he knew where the Scaled Society had gone, Yaz was eager to see if they had his father with them. And if they didn’t, if they had locked him up somewhere else or gods forbid killed him, well, someone was going to answer for it. His desire to avoid violence extended only so far.