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 o
f 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.”
The Book of Maladies Boxset Page 54
