Finally he found it, in the back corner, hidden behind two rows of bins. As soon as he sniffed it, he recognized the potent odor of death. Gedden weed—insurance against an uncertain future. Emptying peppercorns out of a cloth bag, he scooped a few tablespoons of weed into it and slipped it into his breeches pocket.
Adrian knew he should leave and find some less compromising place to wait and watch, but this bit of thievery had exhausted him. He was shaking with chills, and knew that his fever was rising again. He scrounged around until he found a packet of willow bark and a tin cup. Scooping the cleanest snow he could find into the cup, he melted it with flash from his hands until the water was steaming. Dirty or not, it was likely to be safer than water from the wells.
Back in the wagon, he steeped the willow bark into a murky tea and drank it down. Still shivering, he found the pile of blankets and crawled underneath, planning to rest a bit until the willow bark took hold.
The next thing he knew, somebody was shaking him awake and thrusting a lantern in his face. “Come on now, you, climb down out of there before you freeze to death. If you’re looking for syrup of poppy, it’s locked up.”
She spoke in Common, but Adrian recognized the voice.
“Taliesin,” he said, blinking, shading his eyes against the light. He heard a quick intake of breath as the lantern slipped from her hand, then a clunk as it hit the bed of the wagon.
Taliesin usually didn’t startle easily, but now she stared at him like she’d seen a ghost. “Blood and demons,” she whispered. “Mageling?”
“It’s me,” Adrian said.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded. “They said you were dead.”
“Not quite,” he said.
“Well, you will be, or worse, if the blackbirds find you here.”
“I need to talk to you.”
She reached out and gripped his chin, leaning in to take a good look, then pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. The witch had a way of pinning a person with her narrow black eyes. She could tell more with a look than Adrian could with an hour of hands-on.
“How long have you been sick?” she asked.
“I’m all right,” he mumbled, trying to pull free.
“Wait here,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
It took a while, but she returned with a heavy sheepswool coat. “Put this on,” she said. “It’s my nephew’s, but I think it’s about the right size.”
Adrian was still shivering, so he pulled it on.
“Now, come inside, where it’s warm,” she said. “Nobody will see you. I’ve cleared everyone out of the back.”
Before he knew it, he was sitting in the back room of the shop, and Taliesin was sitting between him and the door, pouring hot water over crushed leaves in a kettle. She’d made up a makeshift bed on the floor by the hearth.
While the leaves steeped, she shook some black, wrinkled beans from a cloth bag onto a stone and added some dried brown root and a pinch of yellow powder. “Tell me what happened.”
“What have you heard?”
“It doesn’t matter what I heard, I asked you to tell me what happened.” She set the stone in Adrian’s lap and handed him a pestle. “Crush these fine as you can.”
Adrian weighed the heavy pestle in his hand. He didn’t know what to say.
“I’m guessing you’re here because you want my help,” Taliesin said. “If you want my help, you’re going to have to talk to me.”
Adrian sighed. Maybe once Taliesin knew what had happened, she’d give him what he wanted.
“My father is dead,” he said, smashing the pestle down. Crunch.
“So I’ve heard. The whole town was in mourning when I left. For both of you.” Her voice softened. “I’m sorry, Mageling.”
“It’s my fault he’s dead.” Crunch.
“You killed your own father?”
“No!”
“Then I suspect it’s someone else’s fault.”
“But it was my fault he couldn’t get away. I lured him into a trap.”
“Ah.” Taliesin nodded, her beads clattering together. “So you were in on the conspiracy.”
“No!” Adrian struggled to organize his feverish thoughts. “They—some people—grabbed me on the street. My father came to help me. And they killed him.”
“Then I suspect someone else used you to lure him into a trap.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that if I hadn’t been there, he’d still be alive. I was useless. Worse than useless.” Despite his best efforts, tears welled up in his eyes. Crunch.
Taking the ground herbs from Adrian, Taliesin brushed them into a mug and added the steaming contents of the kettle. She held it out to him. “Careful,” she said. “It’s hot.”
He blew on the tea, and the aroma boiled up into his nose. Glaring at Taliesin, he banged the mug down on the hearth. “If you think you’re going to drug me and ship me back home, you’re wrong,” he said.
Taliesin sighed. “You’re going to want that for pain, because I’m going to need to work on your ankle.”
Taliesin should be queen of something, Adrian thought, since she was so good at giving orders and having them obeyed. He picked up the mug and sipped at the tea.
Taliesin unbuckled his boot and slid it off. His ankle had not improved. The healer rolled her eyes.