Exsanguinated Read online

  Edward guided them out of Caster and across the bridge into one of the neighboring sections. Sam nodded at the two men guarding the bridge, smiling to herself when she realized they were both Bastan’s men. He had never openly set his men on the bridge before. He’d always bribed them, buying their service, but had never been quite so flagrant about who he had stationed around the city. Was it like that everywhere now? Sam hadn’t taken the time to wander the various sections to determine if Bastan had placed his men so openly everywhere, but she wouldn’t be surprised if he had.

  They crossed a few more sections, heading into a merchant section. The streetscape changed as they transitioned from the outer sections of lowborns and into one of the merchant sections. Barges lined the canals along the merchant section. Most were tied up for the night, secured with heavy ropes, and the barge poles had been stowed, hidden away so they wouldn’t be stolen. Sam had a hard enough time navigating the narrow barge on her own, and she couldn’t imagine how the captains managed the enormous transport barges. Many of the sections like this had warehouses lining the canals, best for moving shipments in and out, and storing goods in between transports. Sam had broken into those warehouses before, but they were difficult to maneuver, and often they were guarded, making thieving from them challenging.

  Edward hurried along the streets with a sense of purpose and familiarity—as if he belonged.

  Was he a merchant?

  Or could he be highborn?

  Sam started to consider his clothing. It was difficult to tell, but with the cut of his cloak, he could very well be highborn. There were stripes of color within the cloak, though it was subtle. It was a detail few merchants bothered with, as the cost was prohibitive. And none from the outer sections bothered with color. If they wore a cloak, it was typically black or gray, something more utilitarian. Sam’s cloak was something of an exception, but hers was borrowed from Marin, and that was only because of the properties it bestowed.

  They crossed into another section, this still a merchant section, though mostly storefronts. It reminded her of Arrend, Alec’s section, with the way the shops lined the street, most with bright letters and fresh paint. Shops in Caster were more run down, and half the time you had to know what you were looking for when you entered, otherwise it was easy to overlook what you wanted.

  Edward stopped at a building, and he nodded to it. “This one.”

  Sam glanced at the sign. It looked to be a metalsmith based on the sign depicting jewelry. There were three letters on the sign, though she didn’t know whether they were the initials of the store owner or whether they had some other significance for metalsmiths.

  Bastan frowned as he studied the sign. “Are you sure?”

  Edward nodded. “You told me to keep an eye out, and I’ve been watching this for the last week. I’m certain.”

  “Thank you. You should return before anyone sees you here.”

  Edward nodded and hurried along the street, disappearing into the darkness.

  “Who is he?” Sam asked.

  “One of my contacts.”

  “I gathered that, especially considering he came after you, but why did you have him looking here?”

  “I have my contacts looking everywhere, Samara.” Bastan stepped up to the door and checked it, twisting the lock. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. In the Caster section, many people would put a bar in front of the door, making it more difficult for thieves like herself—and Bastan, for that matter—from entering, but would they do that out here?

  Bastan tipped his head to Sam. “Could you be so kind?”

  “You don’t trust yourself to open it?”

  “I might be a little out of practice.”

  Sam chuckled and crouched in front of the door, pulling out her lock-pick set. She still carried it with her out of habit, though she hadn’t needed it for some time. Bastan stood behind her, blocking people from seeing her along the street. Maybe that was the reason he had asked her to do it. With her petite frame, she wouldn’t block anything other than a view of his backside.

  She worked on the lock, and it clicked open with a soft sound. She stood, tucking the set back into her pocket, and stepped off to the side, giving Bastan room to go in first.

  “What would a metalsmith have that you would be interested in?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be interested in a metalsmith?”

  “With everything that’s happened, I don’t see you as needing to break in to have whatever it is you want.”

  “No, I suppose I do not.”

  “So?”

  Bastan stepped into the store and waited for Sam to join him, then closed the door behind her.

  It was darkened, and it took Sam a moment to let her eyes adjust. While she waited, she focused on augmenting her eyesight. It served several purposes, not the least of which was that she was able to practice placing the augmentations. She needed that practice so that she could be faster at it. At least, that was what Marin suggested. She wasn’t able to help Sam much more than that, telling her that she needed to feel the power within her, and when she did, she would be able to manipulate it more easily, whatever that meant. Sam had seen Marin with her own augmentations, and she had seen her with those placed by her Scribe, and Marin was impressive either way.

  As the augmentation settled through her, her vision became clearer. Everything within the shop took on a slight brightness, as if the darkness lifted away. As the sign suggested, it was a metalsmith shop. Glass-covered cases lined each wall, and Sam glanced in the first of them, seeing dozens of different pieces of jewelry sitting inside. She tried to lift the case, but it was locked.

  “Are you here to steal something?” she whispered.

  “Why would I need to steal anything from here? Haven’t you already pointed out that my access to the palace has made it so I don’t have the same need?”

  “Then why are we here?”

  “We are here because there is something else we need to look for.”

  They made their way to the back of the shop. A narrow stairway led to the likely living quarters above. It was similar to many of the merchant shops. Most had their homes above, which made it easier for them to know if someone was breaking in.

  Bastan motioned for her to head up the stairs.

  Sam frowned. “You want to go up?” she whispered. “If the merchant is here, they’re going to know that we broke in.”

  “If the merchant is here, then it won’t matter,” he said.

  Sam was confused about what was taking place. Why was Bastan allowing himself the chance to get caught? It was unlike him. Then again, much of this was unlike him. Bastan had changed since the attack on the palace. It wasn’t just that he moved openly and wore his sword and expensive cloak as if to flaunt his wealth and position, it was something else, but Sam hadn’t been able to put her finger on it. Was it a sense that he needed to protect her? She didn’t think that was the case, but she wouldn’t put it past Bastan to feel that way.

  At the top of the stairs, there was another door. She checked the handle, and it was unlocked. Why would it need to be locked? If the shop below was locked, then there should be no need for this one to keep others out.

  Sam twisted and pushed the door open.

  Bastan laid a hand on her arm and shook his head. He stepped forward, unsheathing as he did.

  Kyza. What was this about?

  Sam assembled her canal staff. The room wasn’t huge, but it would be large enough for her to swing her staff if it came to that. She noticed a couple of chairs around the table, and there was a counter leading back to what she assumed to be the kitchen. A small hall led to what would likely be a back bedroom.

  Bastan crept forward and raised his hand, signaling her for silence.

  She didn’t need him to signal that, but it did provide a warning. Wherever they were going—whatever they were doing—he was nervous.

  In the back bedroom, he paused.

  There was a small bed with a wardrobe posit
ioned along the opposite wall. Two people slept on the bed. A narrow table was next to the bed, and a lantern rested on top of that.

  Bastan made his way to the lantern and turned up the light.

  He stepped back, his sword at the ready.

  Sam frowned. Who were these people? One was an older man with graying hair. He was chubby, and she could see folds of flesh beneath the cover. Next to him lay a woman who was possibly ten years younger, with dark brown hair and a sharp jaw and much shorter, almost as short as…

  Kyza!

  The woman stirred and jerked her head around, seeing Bastan and then Sam. She jumped up and reached under the bed at the same time, pulling a staff free.

  “A Kaver?” she shot at Bastan.

  The woman started toward Bastan, twisting the staff, but he kept her at bay with the sword, flicking it around much faster than he should be able to without augmentations. Then again, if what Helen said about Bastan was right and he was djohn, it would explain his abilities.

  Sam slipped forward and jammed her canal staff into the woman’s chest, knocking her down. She stood over the woman, looking down. She didn’t recognize her, though there were many Kavers she hadn’t recognized who had returned to the city. Lyasanna had summoned them back, having them bring easar paper with them, and intending for them to help her with her attack on the Theln lands.

  “What’s your name?” Sam demanded.

  The woman glared at her. “Do you think you can succeed with this? Do you think we won’t get her out? Do you think—”

  Bastan slammed the hilt of his sword into her temple, silencing her. “Grab her.”

  The man on the bed started to stir, and Sam looked over. When he saw her, his eyes widened slightly, and then widened even more when he saw Sam grab the woman and fling her over her shoulder.

  Sam turned back to him. “Go back to sleep. This was just a dream.”

  “But Camellia…”

  “Camellia needs to return to work now,” Sam said. “And you need to go back to sleep.” She carried the woman down the stairs after Bastan and locked the door to the shop behind them as they hurried down the street and into the darkness.

  5

  Making Paper

  The smells that wafted out of the pot were almost overwhelming. Alec tried to ignore them, holding his breath when he had to, but he knew he needed to be close enough to it to tell whether the concoction was going to be useful or not.

  He was careful with how he added each element. He mixed it slowly, bringing the water up to a steady boil, and prepared to add the svethwuud last. It would have to be last, because if he made a mistake and needed to scrap the entire mixture, he didn’t want to lose the chunk of svethwuud.

  He needed to experiment with it. How much of the wood was necessary to make the mixture effective? It was possible the entire chunk was required. That was how much he had used the last time, and though it had been successful, the paper was not quite as high quality as what could be obtained in the Theln lands.

  When he was content the mixture of the other ingredients was appropriate, Alec cut off a quarter of the svethwuud root. He didn’t even bother cutting it up, knowing from his previous mixtures that the heat of the boiling water dissolved the wood entirely. That was a surprising feature of the root. He didn’t know of any other wood that would react quite that way, so he had to think it was something specific to the swamp tree, and not necessarily its interaction with the other ingredients.

  With the addition of the svethwuud, the water took on a greenish tint. It was subtle, barely more than a hint of green, but the mixture hadn’t been that color before adding the svethwuud.

  Was there anything to the root that caused it? He was convinced the eels were somehow tied to the efficacy of the paper, but he still didn’t know how. Maybe he never would understand without having enough time to experiment. The venom wasn’t the key. He and Jalen had discovered it neutralized the effect of the paper, so it wouldn’t help with creating it.

  As he stirred the mixture, he wished he had someone who knew paper-making who could help him understand this better. He was trying to understand both paper-making and the nuance of how to create easar paper. Without a better understanding of everything that went into making paper, Alec didn’t think he would ever be able to adjust the svethwuud ratio effectively.

  When the hunk of svethwuud root was fully dissolved, Alec continued to stir, leaving the mixture boiling. The next step would be to strain it and then to filter it out over the screen.

  Alec got lost in the process and took the pot and poured it over the filter screen. When this was done, he took a flat metal tray and pressed it on top of the screen, pressing out more of the water.

  He turned the screen over, exposing the mix to dry on the tray.

  This time, the paper had a smoother texture to it than the last time he had done it. Then again, this time was a bit more controlled than what he had attempted before. He had been in something of a hurry, and the moment he had succeeded, he had hurried off, looking to find Sam to share with her what he had done.

  Alec carried the tray with him and set it on a table against a wall. This was his own private lab, a place where he could experiment, where he didn’t have to worry about others coming in and surprising him. That was one advantage of his promotion to master physicker. His gaze drifted to the door leading into his living quarters, another benefit of his promotion, and space much more substantial than he felt he deserved, but he was thankful for the setup since it gave him ready access to his lab.

  There was only one thing to do, and that was to wait.

  While he waited, he looked at the water that he had strained off the mixture. There was still a greenish hue to it, and he wasn’t sure how much of that was useful, but considering everything he had learned about the eels and the fact that the easar paper he’d made the last time had been useful, he had to think that the pulpy residual mixture could be helpful for something else.

  But what would that be?

  Alec decided to run a few tests. He first considered trying it on himself, but given the fact that he had been poisoned by the paper mixture once before, he was a little reluctant. Then again, the paper itself wasn’t dangerous, and Alec was confident that he had mixed it the same as he had before, if only using a slightly diminished quantity of svethwuud.

  He took a cup and scooped out some of the water.

  He brought it up to his nose and sniffed. It smelled the same as the pulpy mix—bitter and hot and somewhat foul, all scents that reminded him of the swamp, though intensified.

  Alec squeezed his eyes shut and took a sip.

  He knew that he shouldn’t, but none of the individual items in the mix were dangerous. Even the svethwuud wasn’t dangerous. He had handled it multiple times, and though he had never consumed easar paper, he had a hard time thinking the paper itself would be dangerous to him in any way.

  Surprisingly, the water mixture was not nearly as awful as it smelled. It was almost sweet, though he could taste the edge of bitterness, almost like tea that had steeped for too long. He took a bigger drink, and it was warm as it rolled through him.

  Alec set the cup down. He shouldn’t drink any more, not until he knew whether he would experience any detrimental effects. Maybe the easar “tea” would allow him to avoid—or at least reduce—his consumption of eel meat. He doubted he would be so lucky.

  Alec leaned back, relaxing as he sipped more of the tea. A part of his mind warned him that he shouldn’t be drinking this mixture, not without knowing what it would do to him, and certainly not while by himself, in the event something went wrong. But there was something sweet about it, and he wanted to see what it might do for him. If the eel meat was beneficial, maybe the easar tea would be helpful.

  He heard a knock on the door to his quarters, and Alec stepped out of his private room where he was running the tests and into his sleeping quarters. He closed the door behind him, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of what he wa
s working on. When he reached the door and pulled it open, Sam waited on the other side. She was carrying someone and Bastan was with her.

  “Good, you’re here.”

  “Sam?”

  She pushed past him and threw the person that she was carrying down onto the ground, unmindful of the fact that she tossed a woman on the floor. The woman was small and had dark hair, much like Sam did. She had a muscular build, and her skin was deeply tanned.

  “This is Camellia,” Sam said. “Apparently, Camellia is a Kaver.”

  Alec’s eyes widened. “A Kaver? You found her?”

  Sam nodded to Bastan. “I didn’t find her, Bastan did. He has contacts throughout the city.”

  “Where in the city did you find her?”

  “She was in one of the merchant sections,” Sam said when Bastan didn’t answer. “Bastan tells me that he has most of the outer sections monitored, and he’s keeping an eye on who comes and goes.”

  “What I told you was that I’m keeping an eye on the outer section so that we can ensure your missing Scribe does not depart the city.”

  If anyone could ensure that Helen didn’t leave the city, Alec had faith it would be Bastan. Not only did he control his section, but he had connections with other sections.

  “What do you want me to do with her?”

  “I want you to get answers from her.”

  “Sam—”

  She shook her head. “Not like that. I don’t intend for you to torment her in any way… at least, not too much. If it comes down to torture, I can do that or Bastan can.”

  “I don’t want anybody to torture anyone.”

  “Even knowing what she is? Even knowing what she did?”

  “We don’t know what she is or what she did,” Alec said. “All we know is what you’ve told me. If she’s a Kaver and she’s working with Helen, maybe we can help her. You saw what she tried to do to Beckah. If she is controlled by the easar paper, then we owe it to her to try and help her.”

  Sam glared at the woman on the ground. “If she’s not controlled, then she has chosen to continue to work with Master Helen.”