Wasting: The Book of Maladies Read online

  Marin tipped her head in a nod. “That is what I hear.”

  “Does Bastan know?”

  Marin shook her head. “No. He only knows the pages have some value, not the extent of it. Bastan understands quality though. I have diverted as many of my resources as I can to obtain the pages from him.”

  “I don’t understand. Why are these pages so valuable? Why can’t you write on them?”

  “Ah, but that’s the very thing that makes them valuable.”

  “Because you can’t write on them? That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It’s not that they can’t be written on, but that only a certain few have the ability to do so.”

  Sam had tried, but had not been able to do anything. Bastan had tried but failed. Alec… He had managed to write on the page, even if it was one that had already been marked. Did that make it more likely that he’d be able to write on it, or less?

  “Who has the ability?”

  “Samara, these are complicated questions you’re asking. I am willing to share with you that the paper itself is valuable, and I’m willing to help you understand that it’s important to reclaim what Bastan now possesses, but the rest…”

  “Please. If it has something to do with what happened to Tray, I deserve to know.”

  “Deserve?”

  “You sent me there. It’s your fault he was captured.”

  Marin sighed. “It has to do with a battle older than you know. One few in the city know about, and the reason we are isolated as we are.”

  “What kind of battle?”

  Marin looked past Sam, staring at the door. Her brow furrowed in a crease. “Ah, it seems we have even less time than I realized.” She went to the trunk at the end of her bed and flipped open the top, pulling a crossbow and sword from it. She stood on one side of her door, her back to the doorway. “Go. I think you’ve attempted to escape through the window once before?”

  Sam glanced over at the window. “Who’s coming?”

  “Thelns, from the sound of it. They’re heavy footed, but you can probably hear that, can’t you?”

  There was a steady and deep sound of footsteps across the floorboards. There was a rhythm to the sound that she had heard before. She could almost close her eyes and imagine the steady thudding sound as it chased her, the pain throbbing in her shoulder… her stomach on fire from the glass that had punctured it.

  “The brutes?” she asked.

  Marin raised a finger to her lips. “Brutes. As good a name as any, and fitting.” She tipped her head to the door, listening for a moment. Her hand tensed on the crossbow, holding it against the frame of the door. “Thelns are dangerous, for us especially. They have a way of following those like us, tracking us through our scent, and their poison affects us more than others.”

  Sam tried to parse through everything she’d said but could only come up with one question. “Poison?”

  She thought about what Alec had told her about the crossbow bolt that had pierced her shoulder. There had been a poison on it, one that he didn’t recognize. He’d still managed to heal her, though.

  Marin nodded, focusing on the door. “If it reaches our bloodstream, we die. There’s no cure for it.” Marin slipped the sword into a sheath Sam hadn’t seen and grabbed the door. “You should move, Samara. It’s dangerous for you to remain. I’ll hold them off as long as possible.”

  Sam crossed the room and pulled the window open, looking down into the street. She didn’t see any movement, but she’d learned that didn’t always matter.

  “You can be healed from the poison, though.”

  “There’s no cure,” Marin said. “It’s how your mother died.”

  Sam was pulling the window open when Marin’s words sank in. “It’s what?”

  Marin considered her for a moment. “This isn’t how you should find out, but it’s how your mother died. Theln bolt to the stomach. There was no cure. She knew she was going to die. Told me I had to make sure you were safe.”

  The floor outside Marin’s room creaked.

  “You have to go, Samara. There will be time for answers later.”

  Marin looked over to her, her eyes urging Sam on.

  She climbed over the window sill and stood motionless for a moment.

  Marin took a step back as the door splintered open.

  Sam ducked down, barely managing to do so in time before a bolt shot across the room, sinking into the wall near where she’d been standing.

  Marin fired her crossbow, and it caught the man in the neck.

  “Go!” she urged Sam without looking over again.

  There was the sound of more steps along the floor.

  Sam dropped from the window, hanging as she had when she’d broken just a short time ago. Then, she’d feared only Marin catching her. This time, she feared the brutes reaching her, and what they would do if they did.

  In spite of the fear running through her, a different emotion consumed her.

  Marin didn’t just know of her mother, she knew her well.

  She’d always believed that Marin knew of her. The things that she said about her mother had always had a ring of truth to them, but this was more that she knew her. More than that, there was a secret to her mother that Sam would never have suspected.

  How had her mother kept a secret from her? More importantly, why had she hidden a secret from her?

  There was a shout from inside Marin’s home just as Sam was busy tying the rope outside the window again. She waited, hoping she’d hear Marin come after her, but she didn’t. Instead, Marin spoke calmly.

  “You shouldn’t have risked the city, Ralun.”

  “You were hiding her?”

  Sam shivered. She’d heard that voice before.

  Before Sam could think about how he’d found her, her hands slipped, and she slid down the rope, reaching the street. She hesitated a moment before jerking the rope free.

  What was she to do now? Marin involved her in something much bigger than a simple theft, and now Tray was missing. Bastan could help, but she doubted that he would. Why would he risk himself unnecessarily?

  That left only Sam, but how was she supposed to get to Tray? What could she do?

  Nothing.

  Which meant that Tray would remain trapped, held in the cells while the royals dealt with… whatever it was taking place in the palace. He hadn’t done anything, and she had to believe that he’d eventually be freed, but what if he wasn’t? What if the royals decided it would be simpler to get rid of a threat?

  Being lowborn, living on the streets, thieving to keep them alive. All she and Tray had was each other. She had to help him.

  As she ran, she hazarded a glance back and saw the face of the brute who had shot her staring down at her. How had he found her?

  And why did it seem Marin knew him?

  13

  Beginning to Plan

  Sam raced through the streets, keeping her ears and eyes open and prepared for the possibility that the brutes chased her. She didn’t hear them, but Sam wasn’t sure whether she would hear them now.

  Was Marin still alive? Why did it seem Marin had known one of them?

  There was a time when she wouldn’t have cared, but that was before she thought Marin had the answers she’d been searching for.

  Sam needed help, and knew she had no option other than Bastan.

  That wasn’t an option she cared for, but what else could she do? The man was connected, and maybe he didn’t care for Tray the way she did or even the way Marin did, but he was the only one she thought could help.

  The sound of footsteps behind her turned her away from Caster, and as she ran, jumping from section to section, she realized where she was headed, even if unintentionally.

  This section of the city was so much different from hers, with buildings that were well maintained rising on either side of a wide street. The people here were better dressed, and they glanced at her as she passed, though there was little she could do to hide from thei
r notice. She hoped to avoid too much detection, but doing so wasn’t completely possible here. But she had needed—well, wanted—to come.

  Where was the apothecary?

  She had been injured when she’d come along here before, but not so injured that she should have lost track of where it was in this section of the city. When she’d left Alec, she had been mostly restored—at least enough that she shouldn’t have lost her way during the journey.

  A few lights glowed in windows, and the air of this part of the city had less of the stink from the canals than in Caster. She passed what had to have been a bakery, and her mouth immediately began watering, but Sam tore herself away, refusing to succumb to her growling stomach. It wouldn’t do for her to be caught in this section. Likely, someone would identify her as a thief—correctly—and might send the city guard after her. If that happened, there would be nothing she could do to help Tray.

  She wandered past an empty spot, likely a place where a new building was going up, and continued onward. In these sections of the city, there were many buildings that were torn down and replaced by something new, always by some rich merchant with more money than sense. At least in the Caster section, they knew well enough to simply reuse buildings. That was what Bastan would have done and had done.

  Sam made a circle of the streets before coming back to that empty area. She was sure it was where Alec’s apothecary had been. When she took a closer look, she realized it had not be torn down, but burned. She now caught whiff of fresh ash.

  Whatever had happened here, she was sure it had not been accidental. Could it have been because he had helped her?

  Rage began to simmer within her.

  Could Bastan be responsible for what had happened here? She’d made a point of telling him about the apothecary, but only because she was sick and had been healed, not because she had wanted to put Alec in any kind of danger.

  He had told her he intended to acquire more of the paper that he thought was so valuable, confident he would uncover some secret of the highborns.

  Sam spun and raced to the canal. When she reached it, she barely paused before planting her canal staff and leaping over the water. She hurried through the nearby sections before reaching Caster. Once there, she separated the ends of her canal staff and stuffed them into hiding beneath her cloak. She stalked toward the tavern, her rage quickening her pace. Once inside, she barreled through to Bastan’s office.

  “Did you do it?” Sam asked, before realizing that Bastan wasn’t alone. There was another man in the room, and it was someone she didn’t recognize. He had the delicate embroidery that signified someone from the palace, but he didn’t have the look of a highborn. Maybe he wasn’t a highborn but only served them.

  Bastan looked up at her, his flat expression taking her in for a long moment. “Sam, I will be with you in a moment.”

  He turned his attention back to the man and lowered his voice, saying something in a tight whisper that Sam couldn’t make out. After a moment, the man laughed, leveling a long stare at Sam before leaving the room and pulling the door closed behind him.

  Bastan clasped his hands on the table. “Now, Sam, would you care to tell me why you raced into my office and disrupted a meeting. What could be so important that you stormed in here the way you did?”

  Sam approached the table. Her rage surging through her once again. “Did you do it?”

  “Do what, Sam?”

  “I told you about the apothecary because he helped me. Why would you have gone and destroyed his shop?”

  Bastan blinked. “Destroy? I destroyed nothing. I haven’t even had a chance to go find this apothecary. It’s not as if you gave me enough information to locate it. Gods, Sam, I don’t even know which section of the city it’s in.”

  Sam steadied her breathing. Maybe Bastan hadn’t been responsible, but if it wasn’t him, then who? What had happened?

  “Why did you return to this apothecary?” Bastan asked.

  Sam didn’t have a good answer. After getting away from Marin’s home, she had wanted nothing more than to try to understand why the brutes had chased her. How would they have even found her?

  “I was trying…” She shook the thought away. “Who were you meeting with?”

  Bastan smiled at her. “That’s not how this works.”

  “No? How does it work?”

  “You work for me, remember?”

  Sam shook her head. “I don’t work for you. You agreed to help me with my brother—which you haven’t even done—in exchange for more information about the paper. Which I provided. I think that our arrangement is incomplete, mostly because you haven’t done what you promised.”

  Bastan sighed, and his gaze drifted past her to the door. “I’ve been trying to do what I promised. Truly I have. Finding out anything these days is difficult.”

  “What do you mean by these days?”

  “I mean that information out of the palace is difficult to obtain. It wasn’t easy even during the best of times, but now…” Bastan shook his head. “Now there is nothing that’s getting out of the palace.”

  “What happened? What changed?”

  “What changed is the princess and her damned illness. The palace is in a bit of an uproar, and nothing’s moving in or out.” He looked up at her with a bright intensity in his eyes. “Including out of the prisons. I’m sorry, Sam, I really am, but whatever is happening has made it difficult to find out anything about your brother. Until this whole business with the princess is over, your brother isn’t going anywhere, I’m afraid.”

  Sam shook her head. “That’s not acceptable.”

  “Acceptable or not, it is what it is. If I had more money—”

  “You do have more money.”

  “Fine. Then perhaps I should say if I were willing to spend more money, I might be able to discover more about what was taking place, but as I said, I’m not willing to risk it. Not even for Tray.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I can’t do anything to help your brother.”

  “And I can?”

  Bastan chuckled. “Only if you want to end up with him. No. I was trying to say that I don’t think anything can be done for him until this business with the princess is over. There’s no point in risking yourself.”

  “This is my brother we’re talking about, Bastan.”

  “And this is what’s happening during a highly sensitive time, Sam. We’ve done what we can, and I don’t know that anything more can be done until it’s all concluded.”

  “I refuse to believe that,” she said and started to leave.

  “Sam,” Bastan called after her. She paused a moment then turned back to face him.

  “I trust your skill. You’re one of the best thieves I can hire, Sam, but I can see in your eyes what you’re intending. This is beyond even you.”

  “What am I intending?”

  “You think you can break your brother out of prison. Even if you could get in, using the tunnels between the palace and the prison, there’s no way you could get back out. Don’t risk it.”

  Sam glared at him and bit back the response she wanted to say, choosing to say nothing at all. She turned away and left him. As she pulled his office door closed behind her, she wondered why he had even bothered to tell her that there were tunnels between the palace and the prison.

  Unless he had wanted her to know.

  Why tell her so obliquely? Why not tell her more directly?

  As her gaze spun around the tavern, she spied to the man who had been in the office when she’d arrived, and she wondered if perhaps Bastan feared he was being observed. Could someone from the palace have come to spy on him?

  Sam stormed out of the tavern.

  Without meaning to, her feet, and her canal staff, brought her across the outer sections of the city and toward the prison rising up in the distance. It was hard to miss. It was designed to draw the eye, a remote and isolated section of the city, situated alone on its own island, r
inged by the canals, most of them much wider than found anywhere else in the city other than around the palace itself.

  It would be difficult to reach, if not impossible. She thought she might be able to jump to that section, but if she tried, she risked landing in the water, and not being able to get herself free. A swim across the canal of that size would be dangerous, especially if the eels were real, and she was convinced that they were.

  And then, if she did reach the other side, it would be nearly impossible to penetrate the prison. Kyza knew that she wouldn’t be quick enough, or strong enough, to scale the massive wall rising around it, topped by sharp wire. Even the stone itself had razor sharp metal worked into it, as if the highborns feared those inside might escape the prison even though they were probably not only inside cells, but bound, as well. Even then, she would need to escape detection by any one of the dozen or so guards on the grounds.

  Her imagination created the scene on the other side of the wall. There would likely be more of the same sharp metal worked into the stone, a way to keep the lowborns from even walking along them. Anything to keep them confined. Did they even allow light? She could imagine the highborn jailors keeping the cells dark, nothing but constant night as some sort of torture to those they confined. Tray wouldn’t do well in the dark, not if forced to stay there long term.

  She had no idea if they’d already questioned him. Had he given them what they needed? Had they punished him if not? Maybe she was already too late.

  If something had happened to the princess as Bastan claimed—and as Sam herself had begun to hear rumored—why would Tray’s jailers even care what happened to him? How long would he remain captured, unable to do anything, and unable to free himself? How long would Tray hold out hope that she might find a way to him? How long would it be before he gave up and thought that she wasn’t coming for him? That was her job as the older sister.

  Though she was the one to execute the jobs, Tray had always been the one who had watched over her, making sure nothing happened to her on all of the missions she agreed to take. What did it matter that she took the missions for both of their sakes, wanting nothing more than to find a way to buy them out of Caster.