Amnesia: The Book of Maladies

by D. K. Holmberg

  Alec shook his head. “I guess I hadn’t thought much about it.”

  “Paper is much more than what it seems. There is so much that goes into the manufacturing of high-quality paper, and…” Mrs. Rubbles shook her head. “And I can see you aren’t quite as interested in this as I am.”

  Alec smiled. “That’s not it at all. I’m pleased that there are people like you, people that love what they do so much that they can be passionate about it.”

  “You’re not passionate about studying at the university?”

  “I am passionate about that. It’s just that I feel there is something else I need to do. My father wants me to stay, and he wants me to continue to work at getting promoted, thinking I can influence more people that way.”

  “I suspect that is because your father no longer spends his days at the university. He thinks you have potential he does not.”

  Alec had a hard time believing that. His father was incredibly intelligent, and had he remained at the university, he would have been not only a master physicker, but he likely would have risen to lead within the university. That he had chosen to depart and had chosen to come to Arrend and set up his apothecary shop seemed almost a way of settling.

  “You need to go where your heart takes you,” she said.

  Alec smiled. Mrs. Rubbles had often offered him advice, and usually it went along those lines. She was a passionate woman, and she cared deeply. She cared about the people in their section, and she cared about making sure everyone was well cared for, and she cared about Alec and his father. She had always watched out for them.

  “What if my heart takes me farther away than what might be safe?”

  “Then that is where you must go,” Mrs. Rubbles said. “And if your heart takes you to manufacturing paper”—she arched a brow at him, telling him what she thought of that possibility for him—“then at least search for a higher-quality wood. So many people find the cheapest wood to use and… Well, let’s just say that it is not nearly as pleasant as someone who takes the time to harvest something that can produce better results.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Rubbles.”

  “Have you seen your father?”

  “I was just there.”

  She sighed. “Good. He tells me that you were disappointed with something he did. He wouldn’t explain what that was, but I imagine it must’ve been something significant for the two of you to have a disagreement. You are so alike, and I can’t stomach the idea of you not getting on well.”

  “I think we’ve worked through it,” Alec said.

  “What was it about?”

  Alec tried to think of what he could say that wouldn’t disparage his father. Mrs. Rubbles didn’t need to know about his father’s side business, and she didn’t need to know about where he managed to get his money, though she was a businesswoman and would’ve had to question how he managed, wouldn’t she? Alec should have questioned, though he had simply thought the donations from those he healed had been enough. Maybe that was his mistake. Then again, maybe Mrs. Rubbles thought the same.

  “It was probably nothing,” Alec said. “I think I was being foolish.”

  “At least you’re willing to admit that. It’s not often a young man your age is willing to admit mistakes.”

  “And it’s not often someone my father’s age is willing to admit mistakes.”

  She chuckled. “No, men generally are terrible at admitting when they’re wrong. Then again, they have a hard time believing that women are always right.” She winked at him. “Is there anything you need before you return to the university?”

  “Well… I suppose anything you might have that would help me understand how to manufacture paper.”

  “Ah. I might have something for you there.” She made her way to the back of the shop, disappearing behind the counter for a while.

  Alec wandered along the rows of tables, looking down at the paper. All of it was of reasonable quality. Mrs. Rubbles wouldn’t keep anything that was not, other than the single style she had shown him that was overly pulpy. None of the paper was nearly as nice as the easar paper. Maybe that was the answer. Easar paper was of such high quality that someone who manufactured it would have to be highly skilled. Could he find someone like that in the city? Would he have to leave in order to understand how it was manufactured?

  But for him to fully understand it, he had to go to the Theln lands. For him to understand himself, he would have to go to the Theln lands. Alec wanted to go, and he wanted to learn more about where his mother came from, and he wanted to find what was so tempting to Scribes that they remained—or were drawn—when they went to these lands.

  Mrs. Rubbles returned from the back of her shop carrying three books. Alec had stopped in front of the cabinet containing the inks, his gaze searching along them. All of them had a familiarity to them, as he had used most of Mrs. Rubbles’ inks over the years, required by his father to document and take notes.

  “I think I have something for you,” she said. “And surprisingly, one of these is something your father once gave me.”

  She handed them over to him. Alec looked at the covers and could tell that each of them would detail the process involved in making paper. One of them was older than the others, and the style of writing was different, so that when he flipped it open, he wasn’t surprised to see that he didn’t even recognize the language.

  “Which one did my father give you?” he asked.

  “The one you’re looking at. He said it had to do with papermaking, but all he was able to understand were the pictures depicting the process. He couldn’t translate the text.”

  “Do you know what language it’s in?”

  “Not at all. I’m not much of a scholar, and your father likely traded for it at one of the shoreline sections, thinking he could make a better trade with me.” She smiled as she handed the books over. “Aelus never really understood that he didn’t need to try to negotiate with me. I was always happy to make a trade with him, especially when it served us both. I think of how many times your father has helped me over the years. I wasn’t willing to charge him anything more than what was needed to keep my doors open.”

  Alec flipped through the pages. He wondered whether his father really had managed to find this book at one of the shoreline sections, or if this may have been one of his mother’s books.

  If it was hers, the book might be truly valuable. Not only to him, and not only for sentimental reasons, but because if it was hers, maybe there was something to it that would help him understand how the Thelns used paper, or at least, how they made paper.

  “May I borrow these?”

  “Borrow? No, Alec. You may have them. I don’t need them. They simply take up space. I’m getting old enough that it’s time for me to begin getting rid of things I don’t need. Without a child of my own to pass the shop on to, eventually, I won’t need any of them.”

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “Alec, you know that your father is incredibly proud of you and how you were promoted so quickly. I don’t know that I’ve ever heard of someone making full physicker after such a short time, though I’m not surprised it would be you. With your experience, and with your knowledge, you should be a full physicker. For that matter, your father should practically be a master physicker.”

  Alec suppressed a smile. “I’m sure he would appreciate hearing that from you.”

  “Maybe I’ll tell him. Or maybe not. Sometimes, he tends to get a little… arrogant… with things.” She smiled. “Maybe I hold that from him.”

  Alec gave Mrs. Rubbles a quick hug. “Thank you. For everything.”

  When he stepped back, she flushed. “Of course, Alec. You and your father are like family to me.”

  When Alec left the stationery store, he couldn’t help but look up at the sign, wanting to remember it before leaving the city with Sam—and facing the risk of not returning.

  3

  Searching the Swamp

  The swamp carried with i
t an awful odor. Sam stared out over the water, the darkness making it difficult for her to see clearly, but she was determined to better understand what else might be out there. According to Elaine—her mother—she could cross the swamp using only her canal staff. She’d been practicing going out into the swamp day after day, trying to build up her stamina.

  She perched on the top of her staff, no longer struggling to maintain her balance, not swaying quite as much as she once had. The staff had a slight bend to it, and she used that to push off, giving some extra spring as she flipped forward.

  It was time for her to return to the city, but she was determined to figure out exactly how far she could go. She had managed to travel the entire day without becoming too fatigued, though her legs now trembled slightly. She was able to rest, remaining perched as she was on the staff, and that rest allowed her to maintain her position longer than she would have previously.

  “You can come onto the barge if you want,” Bastan said.

  Sam looked over at him. It was a narrow barge, little more than a small vessel, but it was enough for him to trail her into the swamp. Bastan had been unwilling to allow her to go by herself, wanting to travel with her, afraid that something might happen to her if she were to venture too deep into the swamp.

  “That’s not the point of this, Bastan,” Sam said.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand the point,” he said. He stood in the center of the barge, staying balanced, gripping a long, slender pole that he used to steer the boat through the swamp. He had been unwilling to hire anyone to come with them, preferring to make this journey himself.

  “The point,” Sam said, flipping forward until she could land near him but still be in the swamp, “is that I need to be able to move as quickly as I can without an augmentation.”

  “But if you have Alec with you, you can have whatever augmentation you need.”

  Sam surveyed the swamp. In this section, there were strange, twisted trees that grew out of the water. She suspected the water wasn’t nearly as deep where they grew, though there weren’t any islands nearby, nothing solid enough for her to spend any time on. Elaine claimed there would be islands here, places where she could rest, but so far, Sam hadn’t found any. Short of stealing a map from Elaine—if she even had one—there wouldn’t be any way for her to know how to make the crossing and have a place to rest.

  “I can’t continue to depend on Alec. Having Alec means I need to have easar paper. There has to be another way. Besides, I need to continue to master forcing augmentations on myself.”

  So far, every attempt to do so had been less effective than what she liked. She was able to add an augmentation, but it wasn’t anything quite like what happened when Alec placed them. Maybe she could get better if she spent more time training with Alec, but time spent working with Alec meant that she wasn’t able to work on her own and continue to discover what she was able to do.

  “So independent.” Bastan push forward with the pole. “Haven’t you seen that you need to have others to help you?”

  “I’m not disagreeing with the fact that I need others to help. But I need to be able to understand these abilities. If I continue to depend on Alec, I won’t know how—or when—I can rely on my own abilities, not the way I need to.”

  “I’m just saying that you have always been so fiercely independent.”

  “Because I had to,” she said, glaring at him.

  Bastan looked up at her. “You have never been nearly as isolated as you have wanted to believe yourself. You have always had someone with you, watching over you.”

  “Yes. It seems Marin has been watching over me much more than what she has let on.”

  Bastan grunted. “I wasn’t talking about Marin, but then again, you knew that. Why is it you feel the need to torment me?”

  “I’m not trying to torment you. I’m just trying to…”

  Bastan shook his head, pushing forward with the barge. “Maybe it doesn’t matter. You continue to develop your abilities. When you do, I think that will help us as much as anything.”

  “Us?”

  “I have already told you, Samara, I have no intention of allowing you to venture into the Theln lands on your own.”

  “You have no intention? Bastan, I don’t know how you intend to prevent me from doing anything.”

  “I am not without my own abilities.”

  Sam sniffed and pushed off, flipping forward into the swamp. She landed near a trio of trees that seemed to surround a hidden flat section of land. When she landed, she slid slightly down the pole, looking at the ground. All around in the rest of the swamp, thick reeds popped up through the water. In this spot, there were these series of trees, and they grew near enough to each other that their root systems seem to be intertwined.

  When Bastan approached, she glanced back at him. “And I’m not without my abilities.”

  Bastan chuckled. In the darkness and stink of the swamp, the sound was strange. “I am well aware of that.”

  Sam crawled from the end of her staff and onto one of the tree branches. The bark was rough, and there seemed to be brambles that snagged at her cloak, but she plucked them free, careful not to let them cut into her clothing. She had to be sure they didn’t pierce the skin of her hands or her thighs as she rested on the branch. Were she augmented, she would think about adding a thickness to her skin, some way of preventing the brambles from piercing her.

  “What are you doing up there?”

  “Resting.”

  “You could rest on the barge,” Bastan said. “I brought food, and there’s plenty of water, and—”

  “And there is you. If you help, it means I’m not doing it myself. And that’s what I need to do.”

  “Prove that you can rest, and then come down to the barge.”

  Sam shook her head. “I need to prove that this method works. If it doesn’t, then I need to find another way to cross the swamp.”

  “I’m quite certain we have another way for you to cross the swamp.” Bastan poled his way around the trees, making a small circle. He kept a watch out into the night, and she doubted he saw anything that she couldn’t, but it was Bastan, and he was determined to prove she needed his help.

  “If this is what having a father is like, I’m not sure I want it.”

  Bastan glared at her. “And if this is what having a rebellious daughter is like…”

  Sam laughed. As much as she didn’t want to tell him, having Bastan with her did provide a certain reassurance. She enjoyed his company. The swamp would otherwise be boring, and if something happened, no one would know. Having him with her gave her reassurance were she to slip and fall or were any number of other possible dangerous outcomes to befall her. She had fallen in the swamp before. And she had seen the way the canal eels swarmed, wanting nothing more than to devour the first thing that appeared. The eels seemed to follow her, clamping onto her staff, as though they were trying to unsettle her, waiting for her to fall into the swamp.

  “Do you want anything to eat?” Bastan asked.

  “Fine. I’ll take…” Movement out in the water drew her attention.

  Bastan looked up at her, but he knew enough not to break the silence. There was something he had taught her. “What is it?” he mouthed.

  Sam shifted within the branches, trying to get a better view. The thick, strangely waxy leaves of the tree blocked her view. She thought to part the branches so she could get a better angle, but doing so would cause movement and draw attention. One of the first lessons Bastan had taught her about sneaking and thieving had been to avoid attention. The best way to do that was to avoid rapid movements. The eye was drawn to them.

  What was it that she had seen?

  She wasn’t sure. No one moved through the swamp. No one other than the two of them, that is.

  Could it be some animal?

  The canal eels were not the only things that made the swamp their home. There were other creatures, though she didn’t know most of them. There had
been an occasional mournful sound, that which she suspected came from a bird, but she had never seen it. There would likely be other fish, but Sam didn’t dare get into the water to search for them.

  Whatever she had seen had been large enough to draw her attention.

  Maybe someone else came through here.

  What if it was one of the other Kavers? They kept mostly to themselves, but all served in the palace and all served the royals. Sam thought she would have known had one of the other Kavers been sent on another mission, but since she’d captured Marin, she hadn’t spent as much time at the palace, struggling with exactly what response she should have.

  Sam dropped down from the branch and into the barge. She leaned into Bastan. “There was something out there,” she whispered.

  “Samara—we are the better part of a day out into the swamp. Even the captains won’t come out this deep.”

  “Which is why I’m concerned.”

  “What if it is one of your kind?”

  If it was one of hers, then she needed to know.

  The reason she was pushing herself as hard as she had been was so she could train and build up her strength so that when she finally made the journey to the Theln lands after Tray, she wouldn’t be weakened by the time she reached them. Even if she did make that journey, she wouldn’t be going alone. Marin would come with her. Bastan had already expressed his interest in coming with her. And Alec… Well, Sam wasn’t sure she wanted Alec to come, regardless of the fact that he wanted to. The Theln lands carried some threat to Scribes, a temptation that might prove too much for him.

  “I’m going after it,” she said.

  “You’re going to draw attention to yourself.”