Sebastian stands, frowning. “Be careful.”
“I’m always careful.”
I turn to make a quick getaway, but Sebastian clasps my hand and pulls me back. “Thank you, by the way.”
He has the blackest eyelashes. They’re long and thick, and they complement his eyes.
“Of course.” I give him a weak smile and hurry out the door.
***
Sebastian and I stand side-by-side, scouring Mesilca’s announcements. There are a few other people milling about, all browsing the sales and listings from the local shoppes. A particularly stubborn old woman keeps pushing me out of her way, muttering apologies that she doesn’t mean.
She elbows me in the side—again, but this time I’m at the end of my patience. Seeing I’m about to cause a scene, Sebastian sets a soothing hand on my shoulder. I turn to him, giving him a silent look of irritation. He almost laughs, but then he winces.
His jaw looks horrifying this morning, all black and blue and yellow. But somehow, he’s still catching the local ladies’ attention. One fawned over him while we were on the way here, asking if he was a dragon slayer, back from some daring expedition. To which he replied that he was not, but it was too early to tell where the day might lead him. I think he said it just for my benefit.
I roll my eyes as I think about it, and I glare at the white head bobbing about in front of me. She emits an herbal smell that reminds me of all elderly people. And death.
I’m just debating poking Flink in the belly, seeing if I can coax him to belch out a flame to give her a harmless, but effective, little singe, when Sebastian reaches over my head and claims a piece of parchment.
“What about this one, Lucia?”
The woman whips around, beady eyes sharp, making sure Sebastian didn’t snatch something that she may want herself. Then she sees him and his dashing battle wound, and her thin lips tip in a besotted smile. “Oh, my. What kind of trouble did you find yourself in?”
Sebastian shoots me an amused look, and then he turns back to the woman, laying on the charm. “I was defending a maiden’s honor, madam.”
She clasps her wrinkled, spotted hands and holds them to her bosom. “What a chivalrous young man you are.”
“I try.”
I examine my nails as she continues to coddle Sebastian as if he’s a prize egg. She finally curtsies, pretending she’s but a young slip of a girl, and excuses herself. She giggles as she goes.
“What’s the job?” I ask, still examining my hands, refusing to acknowledge the absurd exchange.
Sebastian laughs under his breath, enjoying my revulsion. “Apparently, a man by the name of Frederick Hornburrow has snakes in his basement.”
I look up. “Do I look like an exterminator?”
“We’re not in the position to be choosy.”
The money I made last night was enough for a few more days at the inn, but my chosen establishment was far too small to make a great deal in tips. I’ll have to find a different tavern this evening.
“What else is there?” I demand, looking through the announcements again. They’re all ads. After several minutes, I wrinkle my nose and give up. “Fine. Snakes it is. But tomorrow we’re hiking to the nearest peak and finding a dragon cave to loot.”
Sebastian falls into step beside me, leading the way. “I thought you’d given that up.”
I glance at him. “If there’s a choice between dragons and snakes, I’ll take the dragons any day.”
“You’re an odd sort of girl. You know that?”
We reach Frederick’s house, which fortuitously happens to double as the local apothecary. The owner might have a real job for us once we’re done with this unpleasant task.
It’s a tall, narrow building, washed with white paint. The wooden shudders and trim are dark, almost black, and bright pink flowers grow from boxes in the windows. A wooden sign hangs from the eve, welcoming us.
“Doesn’t look like the sort of establishment that would have snakes in the basement, does it?” I ask Sebastian.
“There’s a creek running just behind the building.”
“Creeks mean snakes?”
Scratch that off my list for the future. No ridiculously opulent manors by any sort of water feature.
Sebastian only shrugs, and he directs me into the building. A harried man with spectacles looks up when we walk in. “I’m sorry, I’m behind. It will be at least several hours until I can make something for you.”
“We’re here about your snakes.” Sebastian holds up the paper.
The man immediately stops what he’s doing and mops his brow with a cloth. He’s not terribly old, but he’s missing most of the hair on the top of his head, and what is left is rather scraggly and gray. Considering how far modern science has come with hair tinctures, I’m not sure I would trust my health to a bald apothecary.
“Are you familiar with slaying…snakes…? I mean, have you…slewn…slayed…slain…?” He twitches again. “Any. Any at all?”
I exchange a glance with Sebastian. “Is that a requirement? I haven’t heard of too many professional snake slayers.”
“No,” he answers immediately, shaking his head.
If Lord Baron Malcomny looks like a stork, this man resembles a ferret. One with mange and a wee narcotic problem.
He gulps, probably attempting to calm himself. “Do you have spells at your disposal?”
Sebastian shakes his head. “We’re more of the sword and dagger sort.”
“Ah.” The man looks disappointed. And very, very edgy. “So, no, erm…elemental…experience?”
I smile sweetly. “Like a warmth spell? Is the basement very chilly?”
He clears his throat. “No, no. Something a bit more potent. You see. The snakes aren’t exactly… Well. I suppose I could say—”
“Spit it out, man,” I demand when I cannot take a moment more of his bumbling.
“They aren’t snakes.”
“What are they?” Sebastian asks, leery.
The apothecary hurries to the door, flips the closed sign, and twists the lock. “They’re lesser basiliskas.”
I wait for his words to sink in, and then I grin at Sebastian before I look back at the apothecary. “Then what you’re asking of us is very dangerous.”
Imagine a chicken had a wildly romantic love affair with a bejeweled snake. The result would be a lesser basiliska. Snake-like in appearance, their rows of scales alternate between rings of feathers. They’re native to caves in the provinces of Kalae, but they’ll thrive in any cool, damp place—preferably a dark one. Though they aren’t poisonous, they won’t hesitate to sink their fangs into you. If the wounds aren’t properly cleansed, a nasty rash may develop, followed by a fever. If the rash is left untreated, the victim will promptly bloat and die.
They’re nasty creatures, and every time they shed their skin, a baby is born from within. They multiply like wildfire.
I look at the apothecary and rub my thumb against my fingers, the universal gesture for “this is going to cost you a small fortune.”
He nods furiously. “Of course. Name your price.”
“They’re not native here,” Sebastian says. “How did you find yourself with a nest in your basement?”
“I traded an egg from a merchant. I needed the venom for a tincture, you see. But the beast escaped. When I found it, there were more of them. They’ve multiplied every day. It’s only a matter of time before they make their way up to the shoppe, up to my home.”
“It’s true.” I nod, serious. “They’ve been known to feed on people in their sleep. Not with evil intent, of course—they’re only beasts, after all—but they must provide for their young. They’re probably hunting mice right now, but when they run out…”
The man gapes at me, past horrified.
“Lucia,” Sebastian hisses under his breath.
I shrug. It’s true.
Sebastian makes the rest of the arrangements, and the man offers us a tidy sum, one that wi
ll get us started on our journey to find the orchids. He walks us to the door of his basement. Then he removes a chair from the nob, pulls several rolled blankets from the tiny gap at the floor, and unlocks three deadbolts—two of which look like they’ve been added recently.
I have the urge to tell the man that basiliskas have no hands in which to undo locks, that one would have been more than sufficient. Before I get the chance, he lights a lamp and swings the door open. At the base of the stairs, scales and feathers glint in the firelight. There are enough writhing, jeweled basiliskas to take over the entire city.
Sebastian slams the door shut and turns to the apothecary. “You remember the sum we agreed upon?”
The man peeps out a noise that sounds like an affirmation.
“You’re going to double it.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Water’s Nice
We emerge from the apothecary shoppe three hours later, covered in sweat, feathers, and a slick, gloppy substance I don’t want to dwell on. But our pouches are far heavier, the apothecary is eternally grateful, and we’ve saved Mesilca from a potential lesser basiliska infestation that would have gone down in history.
Sebastian attempts to wipe his jacket clean with a handkerchief, but it’s to no avail. We’re a sight, the both of us. People look our way, horrified, and they hurry past, pretending they didn’t notice. Sebastian glances at me, cringing. His skin is deathly pale and a bit green. He wears an expression that is so repulsed, even I shudder from the too-new memories.
“Let’s make a pact to never speak of this again,” he says.
We’re both covered in bites that begin to welt, and my legs are bruised from where the creatures swarmed around my ankles. The only one who fared well is Flink. He stayed with the apothecary. The man didn’t seem to think the dragon was so bad when compared to the tenants in his basement.
“Agreed.” I pull a feather from my hair. “Where’s the nearest bathhouse? We need to wash up quickly before the wounds have a chance to fester.”
We have enough to spring for one of the nice establishments, the ones with copious quantities of hot water and scented soaps. If they’ll let us through their doors.
“You were amazing,” he says after a few minutes. “Especially considering you only had a dagger.”
“I thought we weren’t speaking of it.”
“We’re not.”
Several more moments go by, and we receive several more horrified looks from the people who pass us.
Suddenly, it all seems funny—in a horribly morbid way, of course. A giggle builds in my throat, and it only grows as I try to hold it in. Before I know it, Sebastian’s laughing with me. People stop dead in their tracks, wary of the two foreigners who are covered in basiliska blood and laughing like a pair possessed.
“Come on.” I pull his arm before a constable shows up and decides to arrest us for suspicious behavior. I take a deep breath, and the laughter subsides.
After several minutes, Sebastian says, “We’re still good together, aren’t we?”
My stomach flutters, which worries me more than usual. I must have it worse than I imagined if I can go there now. “I think we are.”
He walks like a gentleman, like he just came from a meeting with the ruling duke—not from a basiliska massacre in the bottom of the local apothecary shoppe, and he doesn’t look at me.
“I’m glad you chose—” he cuts himself off and corrects, “came with me.”
We haven’t discussed that yet.
I pause, making Sebastian stop with me, and I meet his eyes. “There was no contest. I’ll always choose you, Sebastian.”
We stand, studying each other for what seems like the longest time. Something silent passes between us, an understanding. I know we’ll never speak of it again; there’s no need. But it’s there all the same.
Flink yawns, and I start when he spits out sparks. I continue walking down the street, needing to move. We find a bathhouse a block and a half away, on the corner of the main thoroughfare. It’s a beautiful building, built of gray stone like the shoreline, and the roof is lined with darker gray ceramic tiles. There are large windows, enchanted so the people inside may see out, but no one from the street can see in. A fountain bubbles near the entrance, and little birds hop along the edge, dancing in the spray.
There are two doors, the men’s entrance to the left and the women’s to the right.
“Think they’ll let us in?” I whisper when I see a gaggle of noble girls exit.
“If they refuse you, give them double what they ask.”
“Will that work?”
“Almost always.”
It doesn’t come to that. The girl at the front takes in my bedraggled appearance with wide, pitying eyes.
“I don’t want to know,” she assures me as she ushers me into a private room—very fancy, indeed.
A steady stream of water spills from a stone ledge at the top of the room, into a flat stone basin, and runs out through a channel. This room has no windows, but lanterns burn, illuminating the space with warm light.
“Rinse first. That way you’re not soaking in…” she trails off, looking ill. “Stay in here as long as you like. When you’re finished, you may join the other ladies in the community bath. We have a masseuse today, no extra charge.”
I thank her even though I don’t know what a masseuse is. Besides, I have everything I could ever want here.
She’s already halfway out the door. “Please let me know if there’s anything else we can do for you.”
“Is there a laundry service?” I ask, stopping her.
“We don’t have one, I’m afraid. One of the taverns might, or you can take your things to the lower servant’s entrance at the duke’s castle. They’ll wash them for you, for a fee.”
“Thank you.”
After my dip in the sea yesterday and today’s activities, I’m afraid I’ve ruined the clothing Avery gave me. My leather boots are no longer soft and supple, and stains mar the bodice. My trousers are torn from the beasts’ fangs, and somehow, I ripped a section of stitching on the corset belt. Mother would know how to fix that, but I’ve never been adept with a needle. I should have worn something else today, but how was I to know we were going to stumble on a nest of basiliskas?
Flink prowls the room, examining everything. He nibbles the changing bench, sticks his head under the stream of falling water, sniffs a pot of powder and then sneezes out blue, sizzling sparks. I watch him, amused, as I stand in the flat basin, rinsing as instructed.
Pleasantly surprised by how good it feels, I linger as the hot water flows over me. It kneads my muscles and washes the horrible ordeal away. I didn’t think anything could feel better than the tub in Avery’s ship, but I was wrong. The bites sting and itch, but the pain subsides when I step into the steaming copper tub.
I frown at my legs and arms. It looks as if I had a run in with dozens of tiny vampirelings. Faint blue rings form around each bite, bruises that will look far worse tomorrow. Irritated that I’m even concerned, I plunge deeper into the water, so they’ll be out of sight.
Soft, tan towels hang from a rack by the door. All kinds of toiletries sit on a little round table by the tub, arranged on a dainty silver tray. From somewhere in the main foyer, a harpist plays a soft, soothing melody. There’s even a sprig of lavender lying atop a sliced section of dried gourd.
I pick the luffa up and frown at its rough, fibrous texture. “What’s the point of this?”
Unsure, I set it aside and sniff different bottles and containers. I finally spoon in several scoops of a salt that smells light and feminine. The fragrance wafts up from the hot water, filling the room.
“That’s it, Flink.” I lie my head back and close my eyes. “We’re staying here indefinitely.”
But, alas, the water eventually cools, and my fingers become wrinkly. Half-asleep after the long day and working most of the night, I pull myself from the tub and wrap myself in one of the downy towels.
/> “What am I going to wear?” I ask the dragon. Realizing he’s too quiet, I turn, wondering what he’s gotten himself into. I find him gnawing on a piece of soap. Quickly, I take it from him, trying not to cringe at the soggy dragon drool. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”
To answer, he belches up bubbles and more sizzling sparks, the lightning element again.
Most of his element rotations are obvious: his hot purple and red flames, the breath of ice, the poisonous gas, the steam. But there are a few I’ve never seen. Sometimes he breathes out something that only can be referred to as gold sparkles. They glisten like mica-flecked granite in the sun and then dissipate. I’ve never dared put my hand in them to see what they do, but from what I can tell, they’re a worthless element. If the dragon is smart, he’ll settle on something a bit more impressive. If he has a choice in the matter. If he settles on something at all.
Knowing my luck, he’ll grow to twenty-five feet and hiccup up an array of disaster-causing elements every time a mouse runs across his path.
The strangest thought drifts into my head. However will I feed him if he should reach that size?
Some questions are best answered later.
I’m looking at my dirty, ripped clothing, wondering what I’m going to wear, when there’s a knock outside the chamber.
“Miss Lucia?” the attendant calls.
Wrapped in a towel, I open the door.
Oddly enough, she holds my pack in her hands. “The gentleman you’re with instructed me to give this to you.”
Sebastian went back for my things. My chest grows warm, and my stomach knots in a pleasant way. I thank the woman, and then I pull on my old clothing. The bodice feels stiff and scratchy against my skin, and I’ve almost worn a hole through the sole of my ancient boots, but they’re better than putting on the dirty ones now that I’m clean.
As I comb through my hair, I turn toward my reflection in the long mirror by the bench. Once again, I look like the daughter of chicken farmers.
Moss Forest Orchid (Silver and Orchids Book 1) Page 11
