The Book of Maladies Boxset

by D. K. Holmberg

  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.

  “Fart
hing?” 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?”