Shadow of a Slave (The Blood Mage Chronicles Book 1)

by Saffron Bryant

  Ash rested his chin on his hand and stared out at the end of the alley. He brushed his fingers along his nose and was pleased to find that it barely hurt at all. His heart fluttered. “That’s it!”

  “That’s what?”

  “Healing! We know about healing.”

  “I’m sure there are healers here… with proper shops and everything.”

  “Yes, but I bet lots of people around here can’t afford those healers. We’d offer people cheap care, only charge enough to cover costs and to keep a little extra for ourselves.”

  “We can probably do more for people than some of the witch-doctors around here…”

  “Exactly! And once people hear how good we are, business will roll in. We’ll have enough money to get to the Institute in no time!”

  “And we’ve already got some yellowcap!” Rae said. “That’ll be a place to start. We’ll have to save up for some more supplies though, before we can make any real money.”

  Ash hesitated. “We’ll have to be careful, maybe not be seen together too often. The City Watch or the Faceless Monks might still be looking for us.”

  “We’ll be careful.”

  “It’s settled then! Now, we should get some sleep.”

  “I think we should take it in turns to keep watch,” Rae said. “I’ll go first. You need to rest to fix that nose.”

  “Deal,” Ash said.

  Vapor from the yellowcap was already making him drowsy and not long after he closed his eyes, he fell into deep sleep.

  21

  Ash shook Rae awake as the first orange of dawn lit the alley. The sounds of movement inside the bakery had been going for at least an hour and soon the street would be filled with people. Ash could have slept for another eight hours but they had to move; they had to get started on their plan.

  Rae blinked and looked at him through bloodshot eyes. “It’s morning already?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Ash handed her a small lump of bread and took one for himself. It crumbled in his mouth and disappeared before he could taste it. His stomach rumbled.

  “We’ll have money for more food tonight. But first, we’d better clean ourselves up or no one will want to be healed by us.”

  They strode away from the warmth of the bakery until they were far from Ferguson’s apothecary and found a town well. They hauled up a bucket and took it to the side of the road.

  Ash scooped up a freezing handful and splashed it over his face. It jolted his muscles like an electric shock and the water trickled away crimson. It took two more buckets to get the blood off of Ash’s face and hands, and the worst of it off of his shirt, but by the end he felt like he’d been born again.

  “How are we going to find customers?” Rae said.

  Ash studied the growing crowd around the well. “We need a way to find someone who is sick or injured. But we don’t have a stall, or even a sign. We can’t walk up to everyone and ask if they know someone who needs medical help.”

  “And we can’t just wait around for someone to get hurt.”

  “The temples!” Ash said. “People who are sick or hurt go to the temples to pray. We’re bound to find some there.”

  “But The Faceless Monks…”

  “We’ll be careful.”

  They strode away from the well and through the twisting city streets toward the temples that towered over the rest of the city. They stopped at the last line of buildings where a cobblestone courtyard led up to each temple.

  Talon, God of Strength; Fel, God of Fortune; Pacis, God of Water; Damek, God of Earth; and even Kaim the Nameless, each had their own temple.

  Every sect had its own building with colored banners and carved statues in front them. Priests dressed in colored robes knelt outside the temples, eyes closed. People made somber processions into each building, heads bowed.

  The only exception was the square building at the end; the Temple of the Faceless Monks. A carved figure in a hood stood in front of the door and two Faceless Monks stood like guards to either side. Nobody went in or out. The door gaped open like a hungry mouth, ready to snap shut on anyone who got close.

  Ash’s eyes drifted to that last temple and he imagined storming inside and getting his revenge on every Faceless Monk within. After what they’d done to Sim—and to him and Rae—it was the least they deserved.

  Rae smacked the back of her hand into Ash’s chest. “Ash! Did you hear me? Pay attention.”

  Ash dragged his gaze back to the other temples.

  “I said, you were right; there are injured people everywhere.”

  “We just need to pick the right one.”

  “We need someone who is desperate,” Rae said.

  “But with something we can actually fix, and who can pay.”

  A man in a ragged brown shirt limped out of the temple, his head bowed. He used an uneven stick in place of his right leg, which was twisted sideways.

  “Him?” Rae said.

  Ash bit his lip. “I don’t think we’d be able to break and reset his leg, he needs someone stronger.”

  “Right.”

  “Her?” Ash said, nodding at a woman coming out of the temple of Damek. She had a blood-soaked bandage wrapped around her hand but strode with her head high.

  “Not desperate,” Rae said. “She probably just cut herself while cooking or something and is here for a different reason.”

  “Them,” Ash said.

  He pointed to a woman carrying a baby in her arms and dragging two other children behind her. One of the children carried a blood-spattered cloth and his white face dripped with sweat. He struggled to keep up with the others and, even from a distance, Ash and Rae could hear him gasping for air.

  “Red lung,” Rae said.

  “Yep. She’s desperate, but it looks like she may not be able to pay.”

  “We have to help. If that boy doesn’t get some medicine, he’ll die.”

  “If we don’t get money, we’ll die.”

  Rae put her hands on her hips and turned to him. “Ash! When did you become so selfish? We’re helping them and that’s final. Maybe she’ll be able to spare some food or something.”

  Ash hung his head, a sick feeling twisting his stomach. Rae was right. Three days ago he would never have hesitated to help a sickly child. How could he let just two days in the slums make him so cold?

  “You’re right,” he said. “Come on.”

  He set off across the cobblestones for the family.

  “Whoa,” Rae said. “Maybe I should go first. You still look like you’ve just come from a bar fight.”

  Ash ran a hand over his nose. “That yellowcap really helped, I’d almost forgotten.”

  Rae smiled. “Good. Let’s see what we can do for that boy.”

  They hurried across the cobblestones and caught up to the family just as they entered the street on the other side of the temples.

  Rae stepped in front of the woman. “Excuse me.”

  “Does it look like I’ve got coins to spare?” the woman spat. “I’m not giving you anything.”

  Ash sidled behind the children, ready in case Rae got into trouble, but for the moment keeping out of sight. Rae didn’t let her smile falter and he had to admire her for that.

  “Oh no,” Rae said. “I don’t want anything. I just noticed your boy…”

  A shadow passed over the woman’s face as she shifted the baby to her other hip and glanced over her shoulder. The sick boy didn’t look up from staring at his feet.

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “Maybe I can help. I know some medicine and—”

  The woman rolled her eyes and shoved past Rae. “You think I haven’t had charlatans coming and promising my boy will get better? I’ve been fooled by enough beggars like you. Get away or I’ll call the City Watch.”

  Ash squashed down the urge to grab the woman’s shoulders and shake some sense into her. Couldn’t she see that by doing nothing she was as good as killing her son?

  Rae held u
p her hands as she fell into step with the woman. “What if I make you a deal? You don’t have to pay me anything unless your son gets better; even then, I think you’ll find I’m quite reasonable.”

  The woman slowed and looked at Rae out of the corner of her eye. “You’d heal him first?”

  Rae nodded.

  “What if I didn’t pay you after?”

  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take. But if you don’t do something for your boy, he’ll die.”

  The woman blanched and she hugged her baby tighter. “What do I have to do?”

  “My brother and I will have to examine him properly and then we’ll know what to do.”

  “Your brother?” The woman spun and saw Ash hiding in the shadows. “What’s this? Tricks! You’re planning to come into my home and take everything. Get away!”

  “Please. We’ve fallen into bad luck too. My brother and I were attacked by street thugs, which is why his nose looks like a purple potato. We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to help.”

  The woman bit her lip and looked back at her sickly child whose breath rattled like tossed knuckles. “If you try anything… I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second,” Rae said with a grin.

  “Come on then. You can call me Mary.”

  Mary led them away from the temples and into the poorer parts of the Lower Trading District, away from the markets and shops, away from the City Watch and the gate to Upper Trading. She stopped in front of a one-story shack with a slanted door and led them inside.

  Two mattresses lay pushed against the wall closest to the fire and bare cupboards with broken doors hung open on the other side of the room. A single wooden chair sat against the third wall beside a lop-sided table.

  Ash tried not to stare but he couldn’t imagine living with so little. With a jerk of his heart he realized this woman had more than he and Rae did. He pulled the door shut behind them and the older children went and stood against the other wall, far from them. The woman slumped into the chair and laid the baby on the table.

  “Please come here,” Rae said to the sick boy.

  He watched her with wide eyes but came to stand in front of her.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Tim,” he whispered.

  “Okay, Tim, I need you to breathe in and out three times deeply. Can you do that?”

  Ash judged the boy to be about nine although his limbs were so skinny it was hard to tell.

  Tim nodded and drew in a rattling breath, cut short half-way through by a burst of wet coughs. He slapped his dirty cloth to his mouth and when he took it away it was spattered with blood.

  Ash’s muscles tightened. It was one thing to read about the red lung, but to actually see it was another thing entirely. He kept his face impassive but the blood meant the boy didn’t have long left.

  “That’s okay,” Rae said, her voice even. “Try again.”

  Tim took another rasping breath and this time managed to let it out without coughing. Two more breaths later he descended into a wracking cough that had his whole body bent double.

  Rae laid a hand on his shoulder and met Ash’s gaze. They both knew the truth, if Tim didn’t get good medicine right away, he’d die.

  “It’s been going on for weeks,” Tim’s mother said. “Without him working, how can I keep feeding them?”

  Ash straightened and stepped to Rae’s side. “We’re not going to lie, he needs help. Now.”

  Tim’s mother stared down at the table, eyes glazed.

  “Mary!” he said.

  She jumped and sat straight, her eyes met his.

  “We need you to boil some water, now.”

  Mary hurried to the cold fireplace.

  “You sit down,” Rae said to Tim.

  He sat on the wooden chair and let the baby play with his hand.

  Ash and Rae withdrew to a corner of the room and bent their heads together.

  “The yellowcap might bring down his fever a bit, but it won’t get rid of the infection,” Ash said.

  “I know. But we don’t have money to buy sickle root.”

  “He might make—”

  “No. He’s too far gone to fight it on his own.”

  “So what are we supposed to do?”

  “We find a way to get that sickle root.” Rae returned to Tim’s side. “I need you to sit right next to the fire.”

  “I’m hot.”

  “I know, but you’ve got a fever. Come on.” She moved the chair next to the crackling fire Mary had built and pushed Tim down into it. Rae took the sheet from the nearest bed and wrapped it around Tim’s shoulders.

  “So warm,” he whispered.

  “Trust me, you’ll feel better.”

  “Water is ready,” Mary said.

  “Good.” Rae took the jar of yellowcap from her bag. “I need you to make a cup of tea with a pinch of this.”

  Mary frowned at the dried, yellow flowers. “Is it safe?”

  “Of course it is. Come on.”

  Mary took the jar and went to the table where she dropped a pinch into a cup of boiled water. Mary brought the cup to Tim and held it out. “Careful, dear, it’s hot.”

  He blew across the top and tendrils of steam lifted up. He took a tentative sip and his hand jerked so that water sloshed over the sides of the cup.

  “It’s disgusting!” A coughing fit overtook him.

  Rae snatched the cup away. Tim bent double and showered his cloth with another splatter of blood. When the coughing subsided Rae knelt in front of him. “I know it tastes bad, but you need to drink it all.”

  “Do as she says,” Mary said.

  Tim took the cup and sipped. They stood in silence until he’d finished the whole thing. He gazed into the fire for a whole minute before lifting his head. “I think I do feel better.”

  A light flickered into life behind Mary’s eyes. “Oh, my boy!”

  Rae laid a hand on her arm and led her away from the fire to Ash.

  “Oh, you’re amazing!” Mary said.

  Rae’s face darkened. “Mary, he’s not better.”

  “We just gave him something for the fever,” Ash said. “But he’s still infected.”

  “What?” Mary’s face lost its color.

  “We don’t have the medicine we need to heal him,” Rae said.

  Mary’s face darkened and her hands clenched into fists. “You come into my home… you pretend to help… and then you try to blackmail me for money! How dare you! Get out!”

  “Mary!” Ash said. “We’re not tricking you, and we’re not trying to blackmail you. We’re just being honest. He needs sickle root. It’s expensive and we don’t have any.”

  Mary’s shoulders slumped and she stared down at the floor. “It’s useless then. My poor boy…”

  “No,” Rae said. “We’re not giving up. We just need to find a way to get some. Do you have any money at all? Or anyone who will lend you some?”

  Mary shuffled to the cupboard and took down a jar labeled ‘flour’. She opened it and reached inside, her hand came out with a single silver Trite. “This is all I have. Everything we’ve got left. It was going to buy food…”

  “It will buy sickle root,” Ash said. “You might even have a bit left-over.”

  Mary clenched her hand around the coin. “How do I know you won’t take it and run?”

  “You don’t,” Ash said.

  “If you’d feel better, you can go and buy the sickle root,” Rae said. “But Tim needs it… now.”

  “I can’t leave him,” Mary said. She held out her balled fist to Rae. “You do it. But don’t you cross me.”

  “I won’t,” Rae said.

  “And I’ll stay here so you know we won’t run,” Ash said.

  Mary nodded, then shuffled to Tim’s side without looking at them.

  “I’ll be back soon,” Rae said.

  Ash met Rae’s eyes. “Be careful.”

  22

  Ash paced th
e length of the cottage and peered out of the slim hole in the wall that served as a window; the narrow alley outside remained empty. He grimaced and turned, doing another lap of the room. He ran his hand through his hair and stopped again at the window.

  “She’s been gone for hours!”

  Mary and the children huddled in the far corner of the room.

  Ash turned away from them and counted the steps from one wall to the other. Eight. Eight steps. He tried to push fear for Rae out of his mind and focused on the numbers. Eight steps. Assuming a square room, that made it sixty-four square steps of floor space. He stopped, turned, paced. Looked out of the window. Turned. Paced.

  What if something had happened to Rae? What if she’d been attacked again? Or what if the City Watch had found her? Ash’s heart hammered against his ribs and he had to force himself to take a deep breath. She’d be okay… she had to be.

  He was ready to burst out of the door and go running to find her when it swung open and Rae stepped through, her face glowing red with sunburn.

  Ash rushed to her side and laid a hand on her shoulder. “Where have you been?!”

  She wiped a sheen of sweat off her forehead and placed a jar on the table. “None of the apothecaries near here sell sickle root. I had to go almost all the way to the gate.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine,” she said. “You start chopping, we need to hurry.”

  Ash opened the jar and pulled out a chunk of bone-white sickle root with red veins running through it. He chopped it into paper-thin slices with Mary’s kitchen knife.

  Rae set another pot of water boiling over the fire and sat beside Mary.

  “How is he doing?”

  Mary looked at her with a pale face and wrapped her arm around Tim. Each breath gurgled in Tim’s throat and blood trickled out of his nostrils.

  “The sickle root was expensive,” Rae said. “But I managed to haggle him down some. This is yours.”

  She handed Mary a handful of coppers.

  “Sorry, that’s all there is.”

  Mary nodded and wrapped her hand around the coins. “If it makes him better, it was worth it.”

  Ash dropped the chopped root into the boiling water. It softened and broke apart, turning the water into something resembling thickened milk. He took it off the heat and poured some into a bowl which he brought to Tim.