Ash should have known that Karn hadn’t forgotten. He thought of claiming that Jenna was confused, but he had a feeling that Karn wouldn’t buy. The lieutenant knew something about his prisoner that made him take her words seriously.
“I’m not going to talk with a knife to my throat,” Ash said, meeting Karn’s gaze. “It won’t make any difference, anyway.”
Karn stared at him for a long moment, then lowered the knife and took a step back.
“I think it means she’s smart,” Ash said. “She wants to die, and she’s afraid I might succeed in healing her where Merrill failed. If she can plant enough suspicion to make you pull me off the case, she’ll get what she wants.”
“She does want to die,” Karn said grudgingly. “She stabbed herself. That’s why she’s so uncooperative. We need to keep her alive at least until—we need to keep her alive.”
If she wants to die, Ash thought, then maybe I should let her. But he guessed it wouldn’t be wise to say that aloud.
“If you want to keep her alive, then I’ll need some answers from you.”
Karn frowned, as if he were surprised to hear a healer snapping out orders. “Such as?”
“Do you have the weapon?”
For a few heartbeats, Karn seemed to be debating. Then, fumbling in his carry bag, he pulled out a dagger in a sheath and extended it, hilt first, toward Ash.
Ash pulled the blade from its covering and looked it over. It was magicked, but the spells used were unfamiliar to him, like a fragment of song from a faraway place. It was still smudged with blood.
“Is this her blood?”
“Hers and . . . and someone else’s.” Karn cleared his throat.
“Yours?”
“No. One of the guardsmen in Delphi. He’s dead. She killed him the night she was—we found her.”
“Is that why she’s here—because she murdered a guardsman?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“Where did the dagger came from?”
Karn shook his head. “She had it on her person.” He looked like he was going to add something else, then changed his mind.
“How long ago was she wounded?”
“Five days.”
“How was it treated?”
“I cleaned it, packed it, and applied a dressing.”
Ash nodded. “Good. Did it bleed much?”
“To start with, it did,” Karn said, “but it closed up quickly. It’s swollen. I think it might be infected. Or something.”
Or something. “Has she been eating and drinking?”
Karn shook his head. “Not much.”
“All right.” Ash handed the dagger back to Karn, who weighed it in his hand.
“Well? Can you heal her?”
“I’m not Merrill,” Ash said. “I can’t tell without examining her. But I’m not familiar with the magic in the blade. If I had to guess, I’d say it was from outside the Seven Realms.”
A muscle twitched in Karn’s jaw, but he said nothing.
“Given that, and given the delay in treatment, I’m not optimistic.”
“Listen to me.” Karn leaned in close. “You say you’re a healer, but I know you’re a mage, from somewhere to the north of us. Maybe you’re working for the king, and maybe you’re working for the witch in the north, and maybe you’re working for somebody else entirely. Maybe you’re a miraculous healer, and maybe this girl is as good as dead. But what you need to understand is that if she dies, it doesn’t matter whether the king recommended you or not, it will be our fault, and we will both pay the price.”
“I never expected anything less from His Majesty,” Ash said. “I’m one of only two people in the empire who might possibly save her life. I’ll do my best, whether you’re watching me or not, but I might get some helpful information if you stay out here. It’s up to you, but I’m going to need all the help I can get.”
26
THE WOLF HEALER
So the wolf healer is supposed to be the kind one, Jenna thought, still staring at the wall. The one she might confide in, after holding out stubbornly all this time. They played their roles flawlessly, bad lieutenant and good healer. Then they both went out the door to conspire together.
Perhaps the boy was chosen for his looks. He was tall and well built, with broad shoulders, muscular arms, and large hands, like a young predator coming of age. He wore the same brown clothing as the other healer, but he filled it differently.
He had a long, solemn face, his coppery skin framing deep blue-green eyes that spoke of a mongrel ancestry. His hair was an odd muddy brown, though, which didn’t fit with his reddish eyebrows and the bit of stubble on his face.
He was a mage. An aura of power framed him, a diffusion of light more brilliant than Karn’s. That and the silver collar told her that he served the monster king. The gifted were never turned to healing, not in Arden. He’s probably just another blackbird, someone with a talent for ferreting secrets out of the weak and gullible.
When she glimpsed him out of the corner of her eye, she saw wolves: gray wolves with razored teeth and brilliant eyes, loping across the blue-shadowed snow. His feral scent reminded Jenna of the witch wind that blew down from the Spirit Mountains during the cold moon.