by Jeff Wheeler
“I thought you were nearly out of paper?” She clutched the roll of parchment under her arm.
Galen nodded. “That was the last sheet. Shame I had to use it on Hyp, but he was right—my father would be disappointed if I didn’t document what I saw.”
He moved behind a tall shelf and reappeared with a pitcher and cup. “Just a small spoonful,” he said, scooping out a small amount of greenish powder from the mortar. Galen poured water over the top of the powder and handed the cup to her. “It won’t taste great, but should help ease the coughing.”
Kira brought the cup up to her nose and inhaled. “What’s in it?” She caught a hint of mint and cinnamon, but something bitter as well that seemed to burn her nostrils.
“Codain leaves mostly. The pulp from the leaves helps suppress the cough. Everlind takes care of what codain does not. Everything else in it just makes the taste more palatable.”
She took a sip. The lukewarm liquid tasted as bitter as it smelled, and there did not seem to be any of the cinnamon flavor the scent promised. She almost spit it out.
When she managed to get it down, another fit of coughing worked through her. “I thought you said it would suppress the cough?” she said when it had finished.
“Give it time.” He pulled a metal canister out from under the counter and scooped the rest of the powder into it before handing it over to her. “Take this. If it works, use it. You can always have another healer mix more for you; just remember to tell them to use codain and everlind. They can flavor it however they please.”
Kira took the canister. Already she felt the urgency of the cough easing, like a knot in her chest loosening. For a moment, she wondered if Galen were wrong. Maybe his concoction could heal her. Or maybe if given enough time, he could come up with something the Guild had missed.
Then the moment passed. Even if the medicine took away the cough, nothing else had changed. She was still dying. For some reason, losing the money—and the hope of healing in Annendel—made that easier for her to accept.
The canister wasn’t anything fancy, but after spending as much time traveling with her father as she had, she knew the price of metal. “I don’t have anything to pay you for this.”
Galen waved his hand toward a small jar at the end of the table. A handful of coins—mostly coppers—rested inside. “That’s not how my father runs his shop, Kira. Just pay what you can. It all works out.”
She swallowed and closed her eyes. “That’s just the problem, Galen. I don’t have anything to pay you.”
“I thought you were going to Annendel?”
She shook her head slightly and took a deep breath. “We were. The money was stolen.”
Galen blinked slowly. “When I first saw you. You nearly fainted.”
She nodded. “After every place we’ve visited. Bels. Chefe. Even all the way to Voldin. To have it all stolen here in Amon seems a cruel irony.”
Galen put his arm around her shoulder. She tensed at first, but there was a comfort to the way he held her that she never felt from her father. Tears streamed from her eyes for a long while before drying. Kira took a deep breath and sat up, pushing away from Galen.
“Is there any way . . .”
She shook her head. “Not that much silver. Not with the time left.”
Galen studied her again. The way his eyes danced from her head to her neck to her arms left her feeling almost as if he touched her. Then he nodded.
“If only my father were here,” Galen said. “Maybe he would know of something different you could try. I’m sorry, Kira.”
She sighed, shaking her head again. “No, Galen. I’m sorry. You’re just offering help.” She pulled the roll of parchment out from under her arm and held it out only to realize that she’d grabbed the wrong roll.
“What is it, Kira?”
“I meant to bring some paper to you. I thought I could use that as payment.”
“That would be perfect.”
“But it’s not,” she said. “I brought the wrong one. There’s a small roll of paper that my father has said is practically useless. I figured you could use it. But this isn’t that roll.”
“What is it?”
“This parchment is something strange my father found somewhere on the plains. The mystics there claimed it has special properties. Father thought to sell it to the Guild. They always appreciate items like that.”
Galen unrolled the parchment and ran his hand across the surface before pulling one sheet away, fingering the edge as he did. “Where did you say he found this?”
Kira didn’t remember exactly. Much of the journey blurred in her mind, a combination of the various medicines the healers they encountered along the way wanted her to try and the strain of traveling every day. “Voldin, I think.”
“Much nicer than Voldish parchment,” Galen said. “There’s an unusual marbling to it.” He looked up at her. “Why can’t you still sell it to the Guild? Maybe you can trade it for the study.”
“It’s not worth enough. Not like it is.”
Galen frowned. “My father would love it. This is just the kind of parchment he would use to begin his record of ailments.”
“Record of ailments?”
Galen laughed. “Book of maladies?” he suggested.
Kira laughed. It felt good to laugh. That she could do it without coughing surprised her.
“What’s wrong with it?” Galen asked.
In answer, Kira reached across him, grabbing the quill and bottle of ink resting near the stack of paper. She dipped the pen into the ink and drew a long line across the parchment.
“Kira!” Galen reached toward the pen.
She only nodded toward the parchment. The dark line gradually faded, as if absorbed by the page. “There is no way to write on it,” she said. “Father figured we could discover some method during our travels and make the parchment more valuable to the Guild, but we haven’t been able to find anything that would work.”
“Would it be worth enough if you could?” Galen asked. He leaned over the page, staring after the ink for a moment. Then he took the pen and started writing. The words quickly faded.
“Father thinks it might.”
Galen looked up. His eyes seemed bright. “Enough for the study?”
Kira didn’t know. Could a roll of parchment—even this strange special parchment—really be worth that much? Her father had always intended the parchment to make up any difference that remained when they finally reached Annendel. She didn’t think he expected it to fetch enough to fund the study completely.
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
She felt a surge of hope rising in her chest and knew that she needed to tamp it down. Even were she to reach Annendel, she reminded herself, there was little chance the Guild could find an answer in time to help her. Nothing could change the fact that she was dying.
* * *
Galen leaned over the page of parchment. Ink practically covered his face, staining his cheeks, with a small dot on the end of his nose. His bright blue eyes still held the same excitement as when they had first started searching for an ink that might work; so far, all the different inks that they had tried had absorbed into the paper just as quickly as the first one. Kira felt herself growing increasingly disappointed.
“We can stop,” she said, leaning back in her chair. She felt exhausted, though they had only been at it a while. How much longer before her father began to worry? She had told him that she wanted to visit some of her old friends, but the only person she had seen from her days in Amon was Galen.
“The colorant is all wrong.”
Kira looked up and saw an older woman, gray hair pulled into a swooping bun atop her head, her dress of a simple cut but heavily embroidered.
“Ms. Rubbles,” Galen said, lurching to his feet.
She waved her hand and glanced at the sheet of parchment. “Stock that thick needs the right colorant, otherwise you will barely be able to see it on the page.”
Galen sh
ot Kira a look before smiling at Ms. Rubbles. “Of course, you’re right, Ms. Rubbles. We’ll try that.” He made his way around the table and stood facing her. “Can I help you with anything?” he asked.
Kira hadn’t seen Ms. Rubbles since she had lived in Amon. After all those years, she looked older but no less distinguished. Being one of the few female shop owners in the village likely made the difference; Kira remembered her as tough but fair. She looked sickly, with a slight sheen to her face as she leaned on a lacquered cane.
“Is Aelus available, Galen?” Ms. Rubbles asked.
Galen shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Rubbles. He’s gathering supplies.” He swept an arm toward the shelves. Kira didn’t think they looked bare, but Galen obviously did.
Something changed in Ms. Rubbles’s posture as she learned that Galen’s father was not available. She closed her eyes and let out a soft breath. “I see.”
“Can I help with anything?” Galen asked.
She gave him a placating smile. “I don’t think so, Galen. I’m sure that your father has taught you well, but I need a fully trained healer.”
“Of course, Ms. Rubbles. I’ll tell my father that you stopped in.” She tilted her head forward. “But if I might offer a suggestion?” he asked as she started to turn. She paused and waited. Galen moved past her and grabbed a few items from the shelves before returning to her. “Steep these as you would tea. It should help until my father returns.”
Ms. Rubbles glanced down at what Galen had placed in her hands. She frowned for a moment before nodding. Then she turned and limped out of the shop, leaving with a soft jingle of the bell.
Before saying anything else, Galen grabbed the topmost sheet on the stack and pulled it toward him. In his neat script, he made a quick note. Arthritic knees. Faint sweat. Eyes slightly pronounced. Visible mass on neck. Likely glandular problem. Given methimanine seeds, buglebalm leaves, and motherwort.
He slipped the page back atop the pile and gave Kira a wry smile. “Maybe she’s right.”
“About needing a better healer?” Kira asked, surprised. “From what I have seen, you’re as skilled as any healer I’ve met outside of Annendel.”
“Thanks, but that’s not what I meant. I think she’s right about the colorant. We’ve been using different inks, but none has worked. Maybe we need a darker colorant. Treat the ink like I would any other medicine I compound.”
Kira bit her lip as she turned back to the page. They had tried the different inks that Galen had available but had not really tried mixing their own. “What do you suggest?” she asked.
“Taris berry?”
Without waiting for Kira to say anything more, he slipped out and around the table and hurried to one of the shelves and back holding a small cluster of cherry-red berries. Setting them in his mortar, he ground them quickly with the pestle and then spooned it into the ink, stirring it with a practiced motion. Kira could tell that the ink lightened as he did, taking on some of the color of the berry.
“I thought you said we should go darker?” she asked. “That seems to be lightening it.”
“Maybe lighter here, but I think the color will be bolder on the page.” He pulled the sheet of parchment close to him and dipped the pen into the ink. Then, slowly, he ran the pen across the page.
Both watched the line as Galen pulled the quill off the page. For a moment, it seemed as if the bright red line would remain on the page, but then it began to fade, slowly absorbed back into the page no differently than any of the other inks they tried.
“Anything else that you can think of?” she asked. “Maybe darker, not just bolder?”
Galen furrowed his brow while thinking. “Maybe parsap?”
Again he hurried over to the shelves and again returned, this time carrying what looked to be a small twig. He broke the twig over one of his other mortars. A small droplet of a thick, oily sap dripped out into the bowl. Galen took a few drops of fresh ink and added them to the mortar, mixing it together.
“It’s usually used as a sealant. Helps bind wounds,” he explained, then shrugged. “With as thick as it is, maybe it will work.”
With a tight expression, he cleaned the tip of the pen and dipped it into the ink before making a long mark on the page. This ink seemed a little different, almost congealing atop the page and giving Kira hope that it might work, but then it slowly started to fade, sinking below the surface of the parchment.
Galen lifted the sheet and looked underneath the page, frowning. “Interesting how that works.” He ran his hand across the top of the parchment carefully, expecting the faded ink to stain his hand. His frown deepened and he held his hand up to his face.
Kira sat back, feeling defeated. Nothing they had tried seemed to work. And if nothing worked, then any hope she had at getting enough coin to pay the healers for the study was gone. She hated the lump that formed in the back of her throat and tried to swallow it back.
“Kira, there are many other things we can try. Caldric ash? Torch thorn?” Galen’s eyes narrowed as he thought. “Pollyton seeds? They stain everything.”
She shook her head and smiled at him sadly as she blinked back the tears threatening to well up in her eyes. “We can stop, Galen. It never would have worked anyway,” she said softly. “I know that I’m too far along. There isn’t the time for a study to help, even if I hadn’t lost the money.”
Saying it aloud felt freeing in a way. Finally admitting what she had grown to know over the past few months took away tension that she hadn’t known was there. She might not be ready to die, but there was nothing she could do to change it. Nothing anyone could do.
Galen slipped an arm around her shoulder and held her against him again. She didn’t tense that time. “You didn’t lose anything.”
She turned to see him looking at her with more affection than she deserved. “I should go, Galen,” she said. “My father will be worried about me. Keep the parchment as a gift for trying to help me.” She patted her pocket where she had the small canister of medicine he’d given her and started to turn away from him before he could see her cry.
As she turned, her hand caught painfully on something sharp resting on the parchment. The tip of the pen, probably, she thought, bringing her hand to her mouth with a soft cry. She tasted the parsap ink before realizing what she was doing and pulled her hand away from her mouth.
“Let me see that,” Galen said.
Kira tried to stand but found that her legs were weak. “I’m fine,” she said.
She didn’t want him to learn that the bleeding would not easily stop. That had been happening for the past few weeks. Like everything else, it was getting worse. And Galen had already been more than helpful to her. The cough medicine really seemed to work; she hadn’t felt a fit come on since she first took it. And he had willingly worked with her as she tried to find a solution to the parchment, probably knowing that even if they found an answer, there was nothing the Guild of Annendel would be able to do to help save her anyway. Best to simply return to Duras. Be together as a family before the sickness took her completely. Considering what had happened with her sister years earlier, even her father could agree to that.
The bell over the shop door jingled. Kira stood then, willing her legs to hold her up so that she could make her way out of the shop. She did not trust herself to look back at Galen, though she knew she owed it to him for all that he had done.
“Aelus?” a deep voice demanded.
Kira turned, recognizing it as her father’s voice.
“He’s not here,” Galen said, coming around the table.
Kira wished for a moment that he would put his arm around her one more time, longing for one last touch. When Galen had comforted her, there had been none of the concern others seemed to have of catching her illness, none of the fear that even her father had, the way he always kept her just far enough away. Only those times when she nearly fell did her father touch her.
Her father appeared between the shelves. Galen stopp
ed and glanced back at Kira. He saw something on her face—the anxiety of admitting what had happened with the money, or her acceptance of her fate.
“Master Benril,” he said, turning back to face her father. “Thank you for allowing Kira to visit with me while you stopped in Amon. It has been wonderful catching up with her after all these years.”
Her father looked over at Kira. “You did not tell me you were coming here.”
Kira took a deep breath, smiling as she turned, hoping that it didn’t look as pained as it felt. “I said that I wanted to visit friends.”
His broad face seemed to darken. “What did you tell him?”
For whatever reason, there had always been friction between her father and Galen’s. She’d never understood.
Galen answered for her. “Only that you were stopping briefly through Amon.” His smile appeared much more convincing than hers. “We talked about your recent travels, and I asked if she happened to see my father while to the west.”
Her father turned to Galen. His frown deepened. “We have most certainly not seen Aelus. And she will not.” He looked at Kira. “Come, it’s time that we be going.”
Galen tilted his head. “Of course, Master Benril.” He turned to Kira. “It really was wonderful to see you again.” He took her hand. His fingers felt soft and warm. One worked briefly over where she had cut herself, smoothing the skin and briefly probing the wound. Satisfied, he squeezed again and released. “May we see each other again soon,” Galen said to her.
Kira swallowed and nodded sadly. Both of them knew that wouldn’t happen.
* * *
Outside the Aelus’s shop, she glanced back. Dusty windows blocked her view so she couldn’t tell if Galen watched as they made their way back to the wagon. The streets were muddy and she took care to stay on the uneven cobbles as she followed her father, but she slipped and had to turn away before she could see if Galen watched. Her father walked a step in front of her and did not look back.
Kira dreaded telling him about the lost money. She wondered if he already knew. Could that be the reason he’d come for her? She doubted that he did or he would be angrier.
