Davir Her Arun | 61st day of Sprout season
Davir steadied the heir to keep him from falling. He stared back at Davir with his typical frightened gaze of a rabbit about to be slaughtered. His lips quivered and he attempted to say something he could not utter.
To read his body, Davir brushed a hand across his forehead, grasping at his nerves. The heir was weak and ached all over, but the epicenter of the pain was located at his thigh. Davir sighed, confused and frustrated. The heir had access to the best nurses one could ask for. Davir couldn't fathom how that wound remained untreated. He looked over his shoulders to inspect his surroundings.
"You'll have to walk, alright?"
Heron managed a limp nod.
Davir led him inside and to the poorly lit stairs that climbed up the first floor in a tight spiral that seemed to make Heron more nauseous.
The paleness around his lips stretched up to his forehead so quickly, Davir kept grasping at his body to ensure he was still conscious.
There was nothing to be seen in the corridors, save from the thick walls painted with a black layer of old and fresher smoke from torches that lit the way. But Heron's lost gaze appeared to wander to every palm of rock.
Davir led Heron down the hall and into his chambers. To help the heir lay down, Davir almost ripped through the transparent curtains of the canopy bed to clear his way. Cradling him, earned Davir a large stain of sweat on his uniform. "Stay with me, Lord. Be strong."
Bracing for the pain, he went to fetch a lit candle that he brought next to Heron, then retreated to hide in the shadows of the small hallway next to the entry door. It pained Davir to feel so impotent.
The nearest sickhouses with nurses were in the prestigious third and fourth boroughs. And bringing one to his chambers this late at night wasn't guaranteed, given Davir's economies. Still, he opened the door, immediately facing the neighbor's chamber. He rushed to knock on the door more times than he could count.
Angry black eyes appeared through the peephole. "I'm not receiving clients today, Sir," the woman sneered. She slammed the peephole shut before Davir could utter one word.
Davir punched the door. "I have a sick with me, woman," he shouted. "Bloody Ancients." Even after silence conquered the corridor again, the door remained still and sealed. Davir sighed, turning to the stairs. He knew he wouldn't have much more luck with people he came across on the streets, but still, what other choice did he have?
When he was five paces deep into the corridor, the door he'd left behind finally opened.
The svelte, woolly-haired woman was studying him, shoulders oblique as she leaned against the edge of the doorframe. She was in her night robes; long stretches of dark brown skin uncovered in her limbs by an emerald green strapless dress.
"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."
She ran her fingers across his forehead, wiping some of the sweat that began to fade. "What happened to him, exactly?"
"I told you he has an unattended wound," Davir struggled to keep his voice neutral.
"You're always this impatient?" She questioned. "Would you bring me some more light?"
Davir sighed. But he lit another candle and brought it to her as she exposed the swollen spot of the untreated wound. "It seems like an infection to me."
"That's what I told you it was."
"I can't do much aside from relieving the pain until a nurse takes proper care of him." She gave Heron several mixtures of clobbered leaves to drink, cleaning him up and collecting all the residues into a small pouch.
"It could have been worse," she said. "If the injury is indeed the reason for his ill state, he will return to consciousness before sunrise," she said when she finished the process. "Now if you don't mind," she extended her arm, opening her hands to reclaim her recompense.
Davir paid the six silver Ceric and the woman turned away. "Gretta yma da," she said when she stood at the door. "It's not often that we have a green man nearby. It chases the thieves away and we're all grateful. It was a pleasure to make business with you. Do not hesitate if ever you think I can be useful in any way." She turned to her chambers.
Unless she could track a Binnar assassin and a soothsayer, she wouldn't be useful to him again. But Davir reconsidered his judgment...She had known his name all this time Davir had been living in these chambers. Davir still ignored what Brigadier Kerm wanted from him and he had no other clues to find the soothsayer than going back to the port of Tholos. All help he could get was welcome. "Perhaps, I do have work you could help me with."
She beamed immediately. The door to her chambers was already half-open. "Follow me inside."
Davir was struck at how much more valuable Gretta's chambers were compared to his. All furniture was polished to a sheen, reflecting not firelight but the glint of lanterns of white crystal dust. One long armchair faced a hearth across the room and on the furthermost corner was the canopy bed of thick curtains.
"I see you are impressed." She showed Davir to a seat, smiling. Looking around the room, she said, "One needs to invest in their business. Pardon my poor manners, I can't offer you liquor. I had a couple with me last night here. They enjoyed liquor as much as the pleasures of the body. But I do have sugar water."
"No need," Davir said.
She took a seat. "Then I'm all ears." Beside her, there was a table with a pile of papers and a pot of ink where dipped its writing stick.
"You are familiar with Teryna, the soothsayer?"
She wrote. "The old blind woman. I have heard of her. Never personally went to see the charlatan.
"I saw her a dozen days ago. In the forest Scura. You have the resources to find her?"
"Of course," she scoffed. "Ten silver Ceric for that. Half of it in advance."
Davir read her to attest she wasn't lying. Confirming she was being truthful, he nodded. After all, he would be using Salmior's money.
"She was with Olassi, a Binnar man," Davir said. Gretta didn't show it on her face, but her interior seemed to stir when she heard his name.
"A Binnar man. It should be easy to find him," she said. But Davir knew she left something unsaid.
"I can tell you are not being completely honest."
"I can find him very easily. But I first need to know what you intend to do with a Binnar man." She hesitated and seemed to peer at the door to ensure it was closed. "I am Binnar, myself. Our diaspora in the city is small. We help each other. If it is to put him in harm's way, I am not helping you get to that man."
"You don't have to worry," Davir said. "As I told you, I'd needed his work and that of the soothsayer. But I have trouble finding them now. If you don't believe me, you could consult my patrol captain to attest that I am someone whose word has value." Davir was gambling. Elhynor, his patrol captain didn't know the last thing about him, other than the fact that he was a transfer working out the captain's night watch plans.
"Ten silver Ceric," she said. "Half in advance.
Finding either the soothsayer or the Binnar meant finding both. Since it seemed Gretta would get to the Binnar more easily, Davir could be strategic to keep some of his money. "I allow myself to test your efficacy first." He gathered five silver Ceric from the coin pouch hanging at his waistband. "Find the Binnar in priority. Here's the advance payment. If we are both happy, we should then proceed with finding Teryna."
She noted. "We have a deal."
• • •
Heron's fever ceased not long after Davir returned to his chambers. To Davir's surprise, Heron's eyes opened by Deepnight. He was disoriented and panicky at first, not recognizing where he was. Davir steadied him until he calmed down, and he told to him what had happened.
Davir visited the nocturnal market for food and water in the seventh borough. Preparations for the mid-sprout season were starting to appear. So, he headed back to the edifice before the streets got packed with people heading to the main temple to pray. He came back to find Heron with company: a dark-furred feline that crouched atop his belly and purred under his strokes.
"Didn't think you were one to keep an animal," Heron said softly as Davir locked the door behind him.
"She invited herself in," Davir said, "comes to eat and rest, I'm unsure if the alleys often run out of mice or if it's my food she likes. I suppose this has been her territory before it was ever mine. I'm the stranger here."
Davir sat by his side and handed Heron a piece of meatbread and a cup of water. "Eat up."
"The food around here always looks this unappealing?" Heron asked before the first bite.
"Tastes better than it looks?" Heron shook his head and took another bite. "Welcome to your own city, Lord." Heron chuckled. And they locked eyes. Davir turned away and stood. He cleared his throat. "It was the only thing I found."
"Of course. The Ancients pay you." He ate quickly and tackled his belongings right away, his torn sack. From it, he extracted crumpled, dirt-stained sheets of paper. "This is for you. I suppose you never got my letters."
Davir grabbed the bunch. "Your evil Master made sure I didn't. He was here to burn them in front of my eyes. The other alternative was to read everything in front of me and find a solution together."
"Venom! He knows," Heron sighed.
Davir shrugged. "According to him, he'd never opened them."
"I don't think you believe that yourself."
Davir read it all:
[...] Davir Herat Arun, 12th Forgotten Soldier, Son of Arun, Year 12 of the 31st Tor Ceres (1660) [...]
He scanned the location of the statue of the 12th Forgotten Soldier in the royal domain. Near the third chapel, where they'd found refuge during The Chill.
He shook his head. He didn't imagine his origins would trace back this far. It was physically impossible to have survived three hundred years, and have remained young. "I'm not certain of any of this."
"Can you afford to be certain?" Heron asked. "Tutor Arai is looking into what he can find of relevance. But he's not optimistic. We cannot find anything about you, your father, or your mother. He believes the information has been purposefully wiped out. My best guess is that for some unnatural reason, the lightning that struck your statue in the royal domain the day of the storm brought you to life as a person you were three hundred years ago. Your memories were lost along the way." He shook his head. "I cannot be sure."
"Hence the stone in my body?" It wasn't that Davir could not believe any of it. Rather, he wanted not to believe it.
"Your half-Mali and erudite accent and piousness make sense now at least," Heron attempted a laugh that fell short. He stood and grabbed his belongings.
"What are you doing?"
"I should go now. I promised my wife I would be back to the royal domain for dinner. I am already late. Can you accompany me to a public stable? I managed to lose a horse again."
Davir escorted Heron to the public stables and they rode together past the eastern city gate.
When he returned to the seventh borough of the city, the night was already giving place to dawn. As he opened the gate of the fifth edifice, all the warmth in the air suddenly faded around Davir. A pungent, putrid smell seemed to wash over him. His hands trembled, like when he found the body in the forest. He turned to the road and traced the origin of the smell, eyes scanning alleys intercepting the main way. He let himself be guided by the horrid smell. To a dark alley, where the smell was so intense, he had to hold his breath to avoid gagging. His stomach turned at the gruesome sight.
A body was trapped between the walls of two buildings. It was bent and broken so the nape touched the buttocks, one blue eye bloody and still open in a swollen face, half crashed against the wall. Broken bones protruded all over. And exposed shattered ribs pierced through the contents of his bowels.
As Davir turned to inspect the presence of passersby, an electric current rushed from his spine to his head. Everything went black. His ears caught the dull thud of his body on the ground.