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.”
&n
bsp; “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.”
Poisoned: The Book of Maladies Page 5
