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  “You need to rest a little longer,” he said. He tried slipping his arm around her shoulders, looking to guide her back to the cot, but she pushed away from him with her good arm. Alec was surprised at the strength she still showed. Even after the extent of injuries she had, she still had a feistiness to her. He held his hands up. “Fine. I’ll help you with your boots. I don’t think you should risk yourself yet. Whoever hurt you might still be out there.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Kyza.” She whispered it under her breath.

  Many thought using a god’s name in that way would only draw unwanted attention, but Alec didn’t believe in that sort of thing. He didn’t really believe in those gods. His father had taught him a different set of beliefs, and he’d seen firsthand how effective they could be.

  “Has anyone come looking for me?”

  “The only people who’ve come here have come for my father.” When her brow furrowed in a frown, he hurriedly added, “They want his healing. He’s pretty well known around here. He might not be a physicker, but he’s a skilled enough healer and doesn’t charge nearly as much as the physickers.”

  “They only care for the highborns, anyway.”

  Alec blinked. “There’s no difference between highborns and lowborns. It’s only a matter of where you live.”

  She shook her head with a frown. “That’s the kind of thing only someone… wait a minute. Where am I?”

  “You’re in the Arrend section,” he said.

  Sam tried taking a step forward but staggered back. “Kyza. Arrend? Isn’t that a merchant section?” Alec nodded, and she frowned. “How would I have made it this far?”

  “Far? Where are you from?”

  She looked past him, toward the door. “Caster.”

  “Caster? That’s got to be a half-dozen sections from here. How did you…”

  She ignored him and stepped into her boots, wincing as she did. When she managed to get them on without his help, she turned to him, a hard glare pinching her face. “Are you going to stand there and watch me, call for the guards, or give me my cloak?”

  In spite of her small stature, she managed to make herself look much more intimidating.

  Alec hurriedly grabbed her cloak and handed it to her. “I’m not going to call the guard.” After finding her injured and bleeding out in the shop, that was what he should have done, but there was something about Sam that made him not want to.

  She took a step forward and staggered.

  Alec took hold of her by her good arm, propping her up. She shot him a glare, but he ignored it, holding her steady. “You’re in no condition to walk.” He tried to give her a firm glare of his own. “Rest. I have food, and I can start a fire, and you can get a little more sleep.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t. There’s someone waiting for me.”

  She slipped her hand inside her cloak and grabbed a long, slender stick that she tucked between her legs. Then she reached in again and grabbed another one and screwed them together. How had he not noticed that in the cloak when he’d moved it off her?

  Sam tapped the staff on the ground, leaning on it for support as she made her way to the door. Alec followed her, staying only a step or two behind her, but she seemed to get stronger with each step. When she reached the door, she thrust the page toward him.

  “You keep this for your records.”

  “I can help you back,” he offered.

  She shook her head. “Not from Arrend, you can’t. Besides, I’m not sure you want to be seen helping a lowborn like me.”

  “I told you that didn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters. It’s all that matters.” She stared at him a moment and then spun and pushed the door open, letting in some of the cool night air. He watched as she disappeared into the darkness.

  He considered following her, but she was right. He really couldn’t help her, not if she intended to go back to Caster.

  Alec closed the door with a sigh, leaning on it, wondering if he’d ever find out how well she healed.

  10

  A Return to Caster

  Sam staggered through the streets, leaning on the canal staff as she went. Each step was painful—but far less painful than she would have expected. Kyza knew she was lucky to even be alive! That Alec had managed to save her… She didn’t want to think about what would have happened to Tray had she died. Even surviving, she still didn’t know what happened to him. That was why she needed to get back to Bastan and see what he’d heard. At least she had an answer for him about the pages, though she didn’t know if it was an answer he’d want.

  She struggled to stay upright as she made her way along the street. The buildings along here were all newer, most two stories high with some higher, and better kept than those in the outer sections of the city. Most were painted in bright colors, leaving her feeling out of place. Warehouses ran along the canals like they did in most of the merchant sections.

  How had she managed to get to this part of the city? Arrend was in the opposite direction of where she’d been going, at least where she thought she was going. The pain had made it difficult to know anything with much clarity. All she wanted to do now was rest, but she didn’t dare relax, not until she had returned to more familiar streets.

  When Sam wasn’t leaning on the staff for support, she dragged it, hating how helpless she felt. When she did reach Bastan, there was no way she’d let him know how she was doing. She needed to put forward a strong face for him. Otherwise, he’d likely take advantage of her injury.

  One of the canals loomed in front of her.

  Sam paused, staring at the water. In the faint moonlight, the water of the canal practically glittered, making it look like dozens of gems scattered across the surface. In some ways, it was actually beautiful. Except for the eels she knew were swimming beneath the surface, just waiting for her exposed flesh so they could bite.

  With her injury, she couldn’t jump the canal. That left her walking back.

  As she followed its edge, she wondered if maybe she should have taken Alec up on his offer and let him walk her back. At least he could have walked her toward her part of the city. If she collapsed now, she doubted she’d be able to get back up.

  Turning slowly, the canal changed course here, circling around the section of the city. Each section was an island, and some were larger than others, all interconnected by bridges, but often by a single bridge. No barges moved tonight, though if she waited long enough, she didn’t doubt that she’d eventually come across some.

  In the distance, a bridge arched over the canal. That was where she’d need to head. First across the canal, then back to Caster and Bastan. Once there, she could even risk asking for help. Maybe she could reach her small apartment and take a nap before finding Bastan.

  The bridge seemed to take forever to reach. When she did, she climbed the stairs slowly, each step causing pain to shoot through her stomach, which then caused pain to race up her shoulder. At the top of the stairs, she paused and looked around.

  There was movement behind her, she was certain of it.

  Her heart fluttered.

  She wouldn’t be able to outrun the brutes if they chased her again. She didn’t think she could outrun a child if one chased her. All she wanted to do was drag herself home.

  Hurrying forward, she paused again to glance back.

  Was there movement in the shadows?

  She wasn’t sure. Maybe.

  The uncertainty was worse than knowing.

  Leaning on her staff even more, she climbed down the steps on the other side of the canal and hurried into the darkness, and into the shadows, trying to ignore the pain in her side, and the pain in her shoulder, and trying to ignore the sense that someone followed her.

  Sam stopped in the entrance of the tavern before making her way through the front room and into the back where she’d find Bastan.

  She took in his massive table and the rows of shelves, but he was not here. She thought about rifling through t
he papers he had there before deciding against it. If he found out, he’d be more than angry. He’d likely take it out on her in some way.

  She turned away from the room and made her way back to the tavern and threw herself into a booth near the wall where she rested her staff. She kept it assembled in case she had to dash away quickly, but in her current condition, she didn’t see herself dashing anywhere.

  Kevin approached. He was a few years older than she, had a long face and the faint beginning of a beard. His mop of dirty brown hair covered his eyes. In spite of that, he had a wide smile that made him almost cute.

  “Sam, you look like shit.”

  She shook her head with a laugh. “I feel like it too.”

  “What happened? You’ve been gone for a few days. You’ve even got Bastan worried about you.”

  “Aw. You really think he’s worried?” He didn’t really care about anyone other than himself. Bastan was an ass in that way, but he’d also watch after her if he promised to do so. That was why she believed him when he claimed he’d help Tray.

  “He left here this morning searching for you again. Came back in a mood. Then he left again tonight. Haven’t seen him in a while.”

  She frowned. It wasn’t like Bastan to be gone that much. He liked to keep close tabs on the tavern, and worried about his precious paintings, making it even more unusual for him to sneak away. Maybe he really was worried about her.

  More likely, he was worried about some artwork he’d discovered, though maybe he was worried about the thief he always used to acquire it. She’d make sure he did worry about her. After all, she’d nearly died.

  Could he have heard what happened?

  If he had, what would he do? She didn’t think Bastan would try to help her, not with her breaking into a highborn house. Likely, he’d be more concerned that she’d revealed one of his secrets. She knew too much about him, and about his entire operation, for him to completely leave her alone.

  “You can tell him I didn’t say anything,” she said to Kevin.

  “That’s not what I was getting at.”

  “No? Well you can let Bastan know I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine,” Bastan said.

  She swiveled in the booth until she could see him. He stood in shadows near the door, his hard eyes weighing her. Sam resisted the urge to shrink away from his gaze. That would only draw more of his focus, and she wanted nothing more to do with him than to tell him what she’d learned about the paper and find a place to curl up like a dog.

  “Bastan. Did you hear I came back?”

  “I didn’t need to. I see that you’re back.” He waved Kevin away, and the younger man offered a beseeching look to Sam before hurrying back toward the kitchen. She hadn’t even had the chance to tell him what she wanted to eat yet. Her stomach rumbled, and she knew she should have stayed with Alec long enough for the food he promised. Now Bastan would have her wait even longer.

  He took a seat on the bench across from her, resting his muscled forearms on the table. A thick blue opal ring on his middle finger drew her eye. “Tell me, Sam, what happened to you?”

  She shook her head. “I went back like you asked and almost got caught.”

  “Almost?”

  “I got away.”

  He touched his chin, a frown furrowing his brow. “You got away, or they let you get away?”

  She peeled back her cloak to show him the stitched wound. The strange blackness around it looked better already. Lucky she’d ended up with Alec. Had she wandered into any other place, she wouldn’t have survived.

  “If they were going to let me get away, do you think they’d have sunk a bolt into my arm?”

  “The highborns used a crossbow on you?”

  “Them, or their brutes. Pretty much the same as far as my shoulder is concerned.”

  Bastan shook his head. “They wouldn’t do that. They prefer more elegant weapons. Highborns feel the sword is the only weapon that can be used. If someone used a crossbow on you, it wasn’t a highborn.”

  She shrugged. “They might not have been highborn, but they were with highborns.”

  Who else but highborns would have been in that house? They had been almost waiting for her there. Maybe the brutes weren’t highborn, but there was no doubt in her mind the men she’d overheard the first time she’d gone had been. He was the reason she’d been nabbed.

  “You’re smarter than this, Sam. You’ve evaded the highborn guards before. Why would they use crossbows when they have other weapons of choice?”

  She sat back, pondering his comment. “Then who else would it have been?”

  “Did you tell anyone else about the paper?”

  “That’s what you think this is about? That paper is useless, Bastan. It takes blood to write on it, and the blood doesn’t fade! There are no secret messages to be found on it.”

  “It’s not useless, and I can believe this would be all about the paper. I need to know if there are others working in the city…” His voice had continued to rise in intensity and he paused, leaning forward once again, his gaze intent. “What do you mean it takes blood? Is that what you found when you went back?”

  “Not there. When I went back, I found a book. I took a page from it to examine and see if we could find the secret, but then I got grabbed. The healer who helped nurse me back took that sheet from me and figured out that it took blood to mark on the page.”

  Bastan stood suddenly and hurried toward his back room, pausing at the door and waiting for her. “Are you coming?”

  “Where?”

  “To prove this. Come on.”

  She grabbed her staff and used it to push herself up from the bench. Without it, she didn’t know if she would have managed standing. The pain in her side seemed to flare as she stood, getting worse than it had been before. Her shoulder still ached, but that was less than it had been. If the pain persisted, she might have to return to Alec and see if there was anything he could do to help. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to put up with it for too long. She might be tough, but there were limits to what she could tolerate.

  When she reached Bastan’s room, she paused, leaning on the staff. “How is Tray?”

  Bastan waved his hand. “I don’t know anything more than what I told you before. He’s alive. They have him locked up, but they’re not harming him.”

  “What are they doing then?”

  Bastan flicked his eyes up to her almost as if he didn’t want to answer. “They’re questioning him, but the royals are preoccupied, so I doubt anything will happen with Tray too quickly.”

  From the way he said it, she knew it was more than just questioning. Bastan meant they were questioning him. There was a difference when it came to the highborns and those who worked for them.

  In some ways, that was worse than sentencing him. She could tell it from Bastan’s face too. Either he worried for her—unlikely—or he worried about what Tray might say under interrogation—which was much more likely.

  “Why are they preoccupied?”

  “Something has happened in the palace. I haven’t been able to find out what quite yet.”

  “And you intend to?”

  “They’re distracted. Knowing that gives me an advantage. You, too, especially when it comes to Tray.”

  “Bastan—”

  “I’ll do what’s necessary, Sam. If I can get him free, you know I will. If he speaks too much…”

  “You’re not going to be the reason Tray is killed. I won’t help you if you do.”

  “You’re too dramatic. They’ll let him out, but I don’t know when. And didn’t you just tell me how to write on the paper?” He took a seat behind his table and motioned her toward the long, plush chair. “Sit. I’ll call Kevin to get you some food. Maybe that will stop your stomach from rumbling like an avalanche every few minutes.” He laughed softly to himself. “For a girl as small as you are, you sure do have to eat a lot.”

  “Don’t call me a girl.” She hated that, es
pecially since she knew she looked young, but there was nothing she could do about that other than use it to her advantage when someone thought to use her presumed youth against her.

  “That’s no insult, Sam. You’re a girl to me. Besides, you’re half my age, so that makes you a girl.”

  It was the first time she had any idea about how old Bastan actually was. Most assumed he was nearly forty, but no one had confirmation. Now, he’d told her without her needing to ask.

  Bastan opened a drawer on his table and pulled out one of the sheets of parchment she’d first brought him, setting it on the desk and smoothing it. “I haven’t sold any of these. Yet. They’ll be more valuable once their secret is known.”

  “There’s nothing valuable in paper you can only write on in blood.”

  Bastan stared at the page. “I’m not so sure. There are rumors of something like this within the university.”

  “The physickers?”

  He barely nodded. “Most of the physickers use their science to heal, but there’s long been a rumor that they have another way of healing when that fails. It’s probably why they’re able to charge so much,” he finished with a smile.

  “You think they have magic paper?” For some reason, hearing that made the physickers’ ability sound so much less exciting. She’d always had visions of sterile walls, of the physickers moving from room to room, using medicines much like what Alec had concocted to heal others, and having knowledge that no one else could even understand. If it was all about magic… that would be disappointing.

  “Who’s to say? They’re far more advanced than any healer you’ll find in Caster.”

  He reached into his drawer and pulled out a small vial of blue ink and set it on the table. Dipping his quill into the ink, he started writing. The ink faded the same as it had when he’d tried that before.

  “You already know what will happen with that.”

  “I have to prove that it will,” he said. “So I know what is different when I add this.” He pulled a knife from a sheath at his belt and pricked his thumb with a wince. When he was finished, he dropped the blood into the ink bottle and stirred it with the quill. Taking the quill out, he started writing across the surface in a neat and flowing script.