Unearth The Shadows

31

"It's useless to ask for help," she said. "No one takes care of the sick of others here. You must know that if you're here to stay, you. It's simply too risky. You never know when's the next plague."

She had opened her door to him, nonetheless. Davir strolled up to her, already grasping at her emotions: expectancy, some nervousness. He gave her time to reveal her true motives.

"How much do you have?" she asked, finally.

"How much do you want?"

"Six silver Ceric at least. Of course, it will depend on the state of your sick." She scanned Davir's uniform as if to prove a point. "You're a green man, you, Davir Her Arun. I consider I am being generous."

Davir frowned. "You know me?"

"I know everybody in the domain," she said. "I have occasional business with your patrol captain, Elhynor."

Davir knew what she meant by business. He had watched her with one eye when she brought men to her chambers or sent them away with her hands gripping their pants. It seemed she had done much more than that.

"He is almost unconscious and boiling with fever," Davir gave in, "has a wound on his leg that is infected." She was looking at him with mischief. "Bring all you need but be quick. The door will be open to you."

Back in his chambers, Heron had passed out. His sweat had wetted the bed. Davir grabbed his hand and squeezed it. If Heron died there, Davir wouldn't last long alive.

When the woman came back, Davir stood and hid in the shadows, leaving room for her next to Heron. She sauntered towards the heir, who was moaning at this point, carrying a dozen cruets and pouches.

"It's quite dark in here," she complained as she sat down by Heron's side.

"What can you do for him?"

She kept her silence, pinched Heron's nose, and spilled a white liquid into his mouth until the cruet was empty of its last drop. "This should help with the fever," she said. She turned and regarded Davir for a long moment. "Never seen him in the borough before."

The excess of the white liquid overflowed from Heron's mouth, running down his cheeks. "A noble, he is?" she asked. "He looks like one, certainly," she ran a hand across Heron's forehead, "I used to receive many more of them in my chambers. Years and years ago. Money's never a problem with them, obviously. Though they often have peculiar tastes." She shrugged.

"They don't come to the second borough as often anymore. After the floods near the palace of rivertrades, you know. We have never been well off around here, but the shifts of the riverbed of the Eeryys have ruined us. And with all the rebellions in the city," she sighed, "ignorant people don't understand they would earn more from tourism than from stealing a few bronze Ceric. They're also gentler, the nobles." She cleaned the corner of Heron's mouth with a piece of white fabric, looking at him with what appeared to be lust. Strange that when Davir read her emotions, he could sense none of it.

Davir cleared his throat. "He will be well soon?"

"You should add a few more candles in your room. I can barely see his face." She caressed Heron's cheek with the back of her hand. "And why are you standing so far, you would tell me if he's got something contagious, would you not?"

Davir closed his eyes and did his best to tame his impatience. "Will you answer my question?"

The woman scanned his face in silence for a moment. "Depends," she said. "My herbs ease the pain, but I am not a qualified nurse. I can't make an experiment on him." She stared at Heron fondly. "It would be quite a pity if it all turned out wrong. Perhaps I have what he needs inside one of these pots, but the wrong cure can be a deadly strike."