by Pam Brondos
“My brother needs your help,” Nat repeated earnestly. It didn’t matter—Mudug hadn’t heard a word. His broad back faced the crowd. He made his way around the smaller chair while giving directions to the scribe. A trio of older men in poufy red hats shook their heads at Nat. This isn’t happening, she thought. She hadn’t come all this way to be ignored.
“Stay here,” she said to Soris and leapt up onto the platform. Her hand was on Mudug’s thick shoulder before the guard reached her.
“I have riven,” she whispered quickly. Mudug’s black eyes focused on her. Two towering guards grabbed her arms. Mudug held up his free hand.
“What did you say?” His voice was like gravel.
Nat said nothing but didn’t break eye contact with him even as she struggled against the guards’ vise-like grip.
“Let her go.” The guards released her and stepped away a little farther than Nat expected. She flipped the edge of her cloak, revealing her wrappings, and they inched back even farther.
Nat clasped her hands at her waist and met Mudug’s eyes. “I have riven,” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.
His eyes darted to the guards behind her. Leaning in, he asked, “On your person?”
Nat thought quickly. If she said yes, would he just order the guards to take it from her? Bastle fleas might keep everyone else away, but she doubted the guards would disobey a direct order from Mudug. “I have it nearby. I’ll give it to you after your Chemist heals my brother.” She met his dark stare with what she hoped was a believable expression.
The scribe interrupted. “Lord Mudug,” he said as he clutched his parchment tightly to his chest. “The Sister’s transport is ready. The guards are awaiting your final orders.”
“Yes, yes, I’ll be there.” He waved the scribe away, then called out, “Wait, hand me parchment and pen.” Mudug snatched the items, scribbled across the parchment, folded it in quarters, and handed it to the guard nearest Nat. “Take them to the Chemist. See he gets the note.” He turned to Nat. “It may be a fortunate day for you and your brother.” He leaned in slightly. “But if you are lying to me about what you are offering, we may be hanging more than just a Sister today.” He smiled broadly. Nat stumbled off the platform.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The guard kept a fair distance, but prodded them forward with his spear. Nat would pause and scratch her knee, neck, or belly, and the guard would back up a few steps. The farther away the guard’s spear, the better, she thought as she helped Soris down the spiral staircase. Soris’ head rolled to the side and banged against the stone wall. “Ouch!” The pain brought him to his senses, and he paused a moment, trying to right himself.
“Keep moving,” the guard growled. He knocked his spear just above Soris’ head.
“He’s doing his best,” Nat retorted, glaring at him. She scratched the side of her nose.
The guard raised his spear. Not wanting to turn into a human shish kebab, Nat moved as rapidly as she could while managing Soris’ weight. The stone steps were narrow and high. She slid along the curved wall as they descended. They passed through shafts of light from the arrow slits. Nat wiped a trickle of sweat from her brow when they stopped at a small landing. She leaned against a low door, hoping the guard would let them rest a few moments before moving on again. The sleeping resin Benedict had given her was wrapped in a water-resistant cover tucked in the tight folds of her clothing. She hoped it really was water resistant, or she might drop before they even made it to the Chemist. Taking a deep breath, she adjusted Soris’ arm and stepped down onto the next flight of winding stairs.
“No,” the guard said gruffly. “Through the door.” He tapped the top of the wooden door with the spear.
Nat tried to turn the rusty knob with a free hand. It didn’t budge. “Can you open it?” she asked. Like the knob, the guard did not budge. Nat eased Soris against the opposite wall. He gasped as his hand banged against the stone. “Hold on,” she whispered. “I think we’re almost there.” Soris lifted his head and gave her a small nod.
Nat tried pushing against the door. She held the knob and gave the door a few kicks. The door creaked open. Light and fresh air filled the stuffy landing. One more kick and the door sprang open. It led to an enormous inner courtyard. A long, low stone building occupied the middle of the courtyard. A garden curved off to the right, and a wide overhang shaded the front of the building. A stocky guard sitting on a tiny bench jumped up as they approached.
“What’s this, then?” he asked, pointing to Soris and Nat. Nat noticed he was backing up to the middle one of the building’s three carved wooden doors.
“Mudug’s orders. The Chemist’s services are needed.” Their guard gave Soris a slight push with the back of his spear, sending him sprawling onto the packed dirt beneath the overhang.
“He’s not going to like—wait a minute, are they bastle herders?” The stocky guard took a step back.
Nat scrambled over to Soris, encircling her arms around his waist. She looked up at both guards. “Did you know bastle fleas can jump long distances?” she said. “I’ve seen it myself. One jumped ten feet from a bastle and landed right on my little sister’s nose. Biggest bite I’ve ever seen.” She helped Soris stand and took a small step toward the guard that had pushed him. “Don’t do that again.” He gave her an indifferent look but took a step back. With the guards now yards away, she carefully lifted Soris’ chin. “Are you okay?”
“Been better.” His green eyes were bloodshot, and his broad cheeks were flushed. “That was a big bite on our sister, wasn’t it? I’d forgotten all about that one,” he said loud enough for the guards to hear.
Nat gave him a quick smile. “He needs to see the Chemist now,” she demanded, the smile gone from her lips. When she turned to the guards, she noticed the dried bunches of flowers hanging from the wooden slats of the overhang. A cluster of tiny white flowers with long stems hung above her. She looked closer and examined the leafy stems. Poisonous skunk cabbage, she thought. As she slowly scanned the rafters, she recognized no less than five more clusters of poisonous plants, including the pinkish belled foxglove and the death camas with its small petals. She wondered how much healing this Chemist did.
“I’ve orders that he’s not to be disturbed. He’s tracking,” the stocky guard said, glancing nervously at them. “He won’t like being interrupted.” He shook his round head back and forth as if it were on a spring.
“Doesn’t matter what he likes. Mudug’s orders,” the other guard responded as he pulled the folded parchment from a slit in his tunic. “He wants the Chemist to look at the boy.” He waved it in front of the guard. The two stared at each other for a moment before the stocky guard snatched the parchment. Grumbling, he tapped lightly on the wooden door. After a moment, he tapped again. The knob let out a sharp squeak. Nat looked away from the dried plants toward the door. Benedict appeared in the doorway, his eyes filled with fury. “I told you not to interrupt me!”
She gasped. It was all over. The guards would be on them as soon as Benedict gave the word. How had Gennes and Barba not known that he was a liar, that he was the Chemist? She frantically looked around for some way to escape. The only obvious way out was the way they’d come.
“S-sorry, Your Chemistness—I mean, sir—but you are to see them on Lord Mudug’s order.”
Benedict snatched the parchment from the guard’s outstretched hand and read it. His eyes fixed on Nat and Soris. Nat noticed the fullness of his face, and as he stepped over the threshold, his legs were exactly the same—no short, atrophied limb. She stared in wonder as she realized she was looking at Benedict’s twin.
“Pory bite?” the Chemist asked in a calmer tone. Nat glimpsed the cluttered room behind him. She caught sight of a long table before he shut the door and gestured for them and their guard to follow him. She gave Soris a questioning look, and he nodded. The gesture looked innocuous enough, bu
t Nat understood that the Chemist had come from the room she needed to get into.
“Are you deaf? I asked if it was a pory bite.”
“Yes, sir—I mean, no, sir, I am not deaf. It is a pory bite,” Soris said between quick breaths.
“Bring him in here and be quick about it.” His voice had a smooth drawl to it. He strode past them toward a door at the other end of the building. They entered a clean room lined with shelves of bottled herbs and liquids. A crude wooden table stood in the center. “Get him on the table,” he told the guard and hopped nimbly up onto a step to retrieve two bottles from an upper shelf. Nat stared, watching his every movement. There was no way Benedict could move like that, but the resemblance was uncanny.
“You have something for me, girl?” the Chemist asked without turning from his shelves.
“Yes, I . . . um . . .” Nat pointed to the door.
“Well, go get it,” he said. “And hurry. I want this boy gone before this place is infested with fleas.” He slammed the bottles on a metal table and retrieved a beaten bowl from a cabinet. Nat hastened toward the door. “No, no. Stay here and help me,” the Chemist barked at the guard, who was a step behind Nat. The guard pointed to his chest in question. “Yes, you.” His irritation was growing. “He’ll start thrashing the moment I apply this, you need to hold him down.” The guard reluctantly returned to Soris, whose moans now filled the room. He rolled slightly to his side, glanced at Nat, and gave her a wink. She slid through the door. The Chemist’s voice rose over the sound of Soris’ moaning. “Easy there, hold him down by the shoulders. Stop worrying about bastle fleas and hold him now!”
She closed the door. She dug into the tight folds of fabric around her hip and pulled out the thin resin packet. She had just enough time to open the seal before the stocky guard saw her.
“What are you doing out here?” he demanded. Soris’ scream sounded from the other side of the door.
Nat faked a stumble and reached for the guard’s hand. She grabbed him to steady herself and pressed the resin against his skin. He backed up, but she clung to his wrist for a moment before letting go. His eyes rolled, and he swayed back and forth on his thick legs.
“Are you feeling okay?” Nat asked innocently.
“My head is feeling . . .” He brought his hand to his forehead and crumpled in front of the bench. She lunged to his side and tried to push him into a sitting position. He was short but broad, and Nat could hardly move him. She’d just have to risk it and leave him where he lay.
The middle door creaked open. Her eyes adjusted to the dim light coming from a window covered by a shredded curtain. Books were strewn across the floor and chairs lay upended. A wooden table sat in the middle of the room. She picked her way over the piles and stared at the enormous map covering the table. The forest she’d first come through was in the center. Beyond the forest lay a coastline running south before sweeping dramatically to the west. Rivers, cities, mountains, and even small caves appeared on the map. She scanned it quickly for Gennes’ camp and let out a sigh of relief. The canyon wasn’t even on the map. Her attention turned to several tiny orbs hovering in a circle about an inch above the map. They were an eighth the size of Barba’s, and each had a distinctly colored tint. All of them hovered in place except one green orb that spun erratically, settled onto the plains below the cliffs, then started spinning again. Annin, Nat thought. That orb must show Annin.
The wall adjoining the exam room vibrated as Soris let out a ripping scream. Her hands trembled as she unwrapped the fabric around her wrist and retrieved another thin packet. The markings on her forearm peeked out beneath the loose wrapping. She slid her finger into the packet and pulled out a pinch of translucent suix-stone powder. The powder floated down upon the orbs and along the edges of the map. The orbs dipped slightly. The green orb dropped and ceased its erratic motion.
“A little more on the far end will do.” A woman stood in the corner of the room next to a narrow window Nat hadn’t noticed. Her black hair was pulled loosely away from her face, but a thick strand fell over one eye. She picked at the seam of the rough brown tunic covering her thin frame.
“I was j-just looking,” Nat stammered, her heart pounding.
The woman leapt over a pile of books, grabbed her wrist, and twisted it painfully. “Old band, not Emissary,” she mumbled to herself. Nat yanked her arm away. The woman’s blue-gray eyes focused on her. “If he finds you here he will kill you just like the rest of them he brings in. Be quick about it. A little more there.” She pointed to the other end of the map. “Do it!” she hissed. Nat sprinkled more of the powder over the map and glanced at the woman. She nodded in encouragement as the color of each orb faded slightly. After the last orb dimmed, the woman stepped away from the map and over piles of books. Nat could see bruises and red marks on her thin, bare legs as she made her way back to the window.
“Will you tell him? The Chemist—will you tell him?” Nat asked.
The woman’s lips hardened into a thin line and her eyes narrowed. “Go now.” She pointed to the door, then pulled a book off a shelf and slammed it against the far wall. “Go now!” she cried.
Nat held the packet of suix stone to her wrist and hastily rewrapped the fabric. She ducked. A book flew above her head. The woman kicked an overturned chair and knocked a row of bottles off a far table. One shattered above her head as she hurried out the door. She stumbled over the unconscious guard. Something crashed against the wall. Nat fumbled in her cloak pocket and retrieved the vial Matilda had given her. She uncapped it and waved it under the guard’s nose.
He coughed, inhaled deeply, and coughed again. “What . . . ?” He looked around, confused.
“You tripped and hit your head, I think,” she said, pointing to the overturned stool. The guard stood slowly with Nat’s help. Another crash sounded, then breaking glass. His face drained of color as he turned to the door, which shook as if a heavy object had just hit it. “I need to get back to my brother,” Nat said, easing away. But the guard took no notice. He stood transfixed in front of the door as the crashing continued. Nat remembered the riven. She pulled the packet from the folds of fabric around her inner thigh just as the Chemist, the other guard, and Soris emerged from the exam room. A metal scale came sailing through a window set high above the door. Splintered glass fell around them. The Chemist’s expression transformed from confusion to horror. He pushed past Nat, who held out the packet of riven.
“Here’s what Lord Mudug wanted.” She extended her hand.
“Leave it,” he said hastily. “Get them both out of here!” he shouted to the guard by Soris.
Nat flung the packet of riven onto the ground and ran after the guard and Soris. She glanced back. A flash of black flew past the doorway before the Chemist slammed the door shut behind him.
“Move!” yelled the guard. He ushered Soris and Nat through the old wooden door leading into the castle.
“What was that?” Nat gasped.
“None of your business,” he said gruffly. When he turned to face them, he swallowed hard and poked Nat with his spear tip. “Move!”
Nat tripped on a stair and scrambled to her feet. Soris was a few steps ahead of her. Either his strength had returned or the spear was enough to urge him on. The guard continued to glance over his shoulder as if he expected something to come after him. Nat exchanged looks with Soris. He shook his head.
They traveled down hallways and stairwells until they entered the hallway above the kitchen. Nat stopped and began to scratch the back of her neck.
“Keep moving,” the guard said impatiently.
“I will, I just have this . . .” She began to twist her body as she scratched. “I thought I’d gotten rid of all of them.” She scratched herself once more and pinched her fingers together, bringing them in front of her face. She pursed her lips and flicked the imaginary flea toward the guard. “Where there’s one, there ar
e always more.” She began flapping the bottom folds of her cloak, trying to shake out imaginary fleas.
The guard backed away, holding the spear protectively in front of him. He gestured toward the door leading to the kitchen stairwell. “Out! Get out now before I—” He nervously brushed at a dark piece of lint on his arm.
“Through here?” Nat asked in feigned ignorance. She pointed to the same door.
“Yes! Get out now!” the guard yelled as he stumbled away from them.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
The door hit the wall with a bang. Nat and Soris flung themselves onto the landing above the kitchen. Taking three steps at a time, they raced past Beatty. She dropped a stack of dishes as they ran by her. Crockery showered over the stairs and splintered into hundreds of pieces on the kitchen floor.
“What in the blazes?” Beatty said as she surveyed the crockery strewn on the floor. “You get back here—” Her threats met an empty kitchen.
Nat and Soris raced through the pungent courtyard behind the kitchen, retracing their steps down the alley. Soris grabbed Nat as she hurtled into the lane beyond the bricked-in garbage enclosure. A carriage rolled by, missing her by inches. “Watch it, there!” the driver yelled at them as they rounded the back of the carriage, pushing through the thick crowd.
Soris pointed past the edge of the crowd to a narrow, uncongested lane. Nat took his hand and they dived into the mass of people. A small fountain bubbled in the middle of the next intersection. “Down here.” He steered her toward an alley. They zigzagged through a series of alleys and backstreets until Soris stopped short behind a crumbling brick wall covered in vines. He bent over, breathing hard.
