The Emperor's Edge

The Emperor's Edge Ch. 6 Pt. 1

The surgeon turned into a large room with four occupied cots against the back wall. A counter with upper and lower cabinets stood along one side and a coal stove along the other. No fire burned in it, and the room was cold. The men on the cots were inert, flushed faces and wheezing breaths the only indications of life. A bumpy red rash covered their skin.

The surgeon paused by a cot. “Ah, good. This one’s dead. Take him to my examination room. A few more dissections and we ought to make some headway.” He rapped his knuckles on his clipboard. “It’s not right that those magic-throwing Kendorian shamans can cure this while sound imperial medicine lags behind.”

The guard who had spoken up for Sespian left Amaranthe to obey the surgeon’s orders. He touched her shoulder briefly, eyes sad, before he dragged the corpse away. The pity unnerved her more than the callous attitudes of the others.

“Magic-throwing shamans?” Amaranthe asked. The empire’s stance was that magic did not exist. Of course, the empire also forbade its use, so one tended to wonder about the truth of the first statement. Either way, she had never seen any evidence of magic in her life.

“Yes, their healers sacrifice chickens, wave their hands, and cure the disease.” The surgeon sniffed disdainfully. “Fear not. Your sacrifice will help us find a legitimate cure and distribute it to our troops along the southern border.”

“Oh, good.” Amaranthe swallowed. “What is the disease?”

“Hysintunga.”

“And it’s always deadly?”

“Oh, yes.”

“How long does it take to ah...” She nodded in the direction the corpse had been taken.

The surgeon unlocked a cabinet and rummaged inside. “Three to four days from infection to death, at least based on the cases we’ve had so far. Perhaps it’ll be faster for you, since you’re smaller than the men.”

A locomotive trip to Kendor took over a week. I’m dead if I let them infect me.

She flexed her shoulders and tried to work her wrists free of the manacles. The remaining guard clamped his hand tighter around her biceps and gave her a warning frown. The hilt of his sword dug into her side. If she could somehow get his weapon, maybe she could hold it to the surgeon’s throat and bargain her way free. She would need her hands free first.

“I don’t suppose you’d—” she started, but a shadow fell across the doorway.

Hollowcrest entered the room, and four guards came in on his heels.

Amaranthe slumped.

He regarded her coolly, hefting his right arm. A bandage wrapped it from wrist to elbow.

“You are a tedious pain, woman. In more ways than one.”

“You attacked me,” she said, seeing no reason to bother with honorifics at this point. “After you sent me on a suicide mission. I’m the one who’s a pain?”

He snorted. “Don’t put this on me, girl. It seemed a shame to waste a bright enforcer; it’s not like they’re a common breed. Your ambition is what made you dangerous. I couldn’t let you at the emperor.”

A shame? Vanquished ancestors, was he actually regretting what he had done? Did he feel guilty? Or was she imagining it? Maybe he had just come down to gloat. It didn’t seem that he had noticed the missing note yet, though she was not sure how that helped. She could not read it with her hands behind her back.

The surgeon removed a jar from a cabinet, one of several on a shelf. A large, winged insect buzzed inside, its droning ominous. Amaranthe made herself focus on Hollowcrest. As long as he was talking, she had to learn as much as she could in case she had the opportunity to do something with that information later.