The Dread Lords Rising

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The Dread Lords Rising Page 53

by J. David Phillips


  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Hair And Stuff

  Maerillus lay in pain in the very room he had been born in. The first place they had come to after slipping out of Kreeth’s estate had been Lord Joachim’s estate, which rivaled his own family’s home and then some. Joachim’s family had lived in the area so long and held the title of stewardship for so many generations that the towns of Pirim Village, Havel’s Dock, Old Flood, Silver Springs, and Siler’s Hollow were synonymous with the Joachim name. The choice to come here had been Davin’s. If Kreeth decided to send anyone after them, getting through Joachim’s guards would prove an insurmountable task, even for a sorcerer.

  Or so he hoped.

  With any luck, Niam’s last minute plan worked, and the only thing anyone saw was one hooded figure escaping in the cart they stole. But as far as Maerillus was concerned, the three of them were walking on the thin ice of too many “what-ifs” already.

  A knock sounded at the door and Mr. Kirse, Joachim’s physician, stuck his head in the room. “I have more medicine for the pain if you’d like, young man.”

  Maerillus shook his head. “It makes me feel too mushy-headed, sir.”

  For some reason this made the physician smile. “Good boy,” he said approvingly. “Too many people become dependent on the essence of poppy. I’ve seen it wreck lives. When there’s an icehouse nearby, I tell people I prefer ice and heat to control the swelling, and the bark of the asprodil bush also helps reduce inflammation.”

  “It’s helping a lot,” Maerillus said gratefully.

  “You’re lucky you didn’t break it, but then again I’ve seen sprains that were far worse than breaks.”

  Maerillus asked, “How long will it take to get back to normal?”

  “I expect you’ll be limping for several months.”

  Maerillus sat up and exclaimed, “I don’t have several months!”

  The physician made a sour face. “You’ll have as long as your body takes to heal, which reminds me, while you were sleeping, I left a pair of crutches for you to use. Do I need to show you how to use them properly?”

  Maerillus responded, feeling rather surely. “No. Thank you.” Then, remembering his manners, he added, “I’ve used them before. I appreciate what you’ve done for me. Honestly.”

  Before either could say anything else, a commotion in the room outside drew their attention. Lord Joachim, dusty from the road and as grizzled as ever walked peremptorily into the room. He took one look at his physician and then another at Maerillus, and said gruffly, “Not you too.”

  Maerillus’s ears perked up when Joachim told the physician, “Jolan Kine has been hurt. Arrow went through his thigh. Solum bean poison.”

  “I’ll have to examine him immediately,” the physician replied.

  As the two men left the room, Maerillus quickly grabbed the crutches at his bedside and gingerly helped himself up out of bed. Carefully, he made his way into the antechamber where Kine lay on a couch. His face was pale, and his breathing sounded rough and phlegmy.

  “I need help getting this off,” the physician said. Once he was able to see the wound, he winced. “There’s a lot of pus, but we’ll drain that. Falion!” he yelled. And then cursed to himself, “Where’s that old badger when I need him?”

  Moments later, though, Falion shuffled into the room. “You called, sir?”

  “Yes. I need you to go to my offices and get the black bag on top of the shelf beside the patient table—the black bag, mind you, not the brown one.”

  “Yes sir,” Falion murmured as he shuffled back out of the room.

  “Well?” Joachim demanded impatiently.

  “Well. He’s lucky to be alive. A full dose would have killed him outright. Solum bean poison acts on the heart in high doses. In lower doses, the lungs fill up with fluid. I’ve got to give him something to clear his lungs or he’ll die of pneumonia or some other infection. Nasty stuff, that. Too bad the vine grows everywhere.”

  “Convenient, too,” Joachim said bluntly.

  “What happened?” Maerillus asked.

  Joachim’s response was as dry as it was curt. “Somebody’s bad aim happened.”

  The physician let out an ironic laugh. “Bad aim indeed. A little more to the left and he’d be dead.”

  “I can hear you talking about me,” Kine wheezed.

  When Falion returned, the physician rummaged through his bag and pulled out something that looked like a plunger attached to a fat needle at the other end.

  “What’s that?” Maerillus asked.

  “A relatively new invention from the school of medicine in Pallodine. Needle’s hollow. Allows medicines to be sent directly into a patient’s body. Wish I’d thought of it,” the physician said. “I often use it to give essence of poppy.”

  As the physician bent to work on Jolan Kine, Maerillus pulled Lord Joachim aside. “We need to talk,” he whispered. “We’ve got what Kine needs to bring Kreeth to justice.”

 

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