“What is he doing?” I asked. “What are these urvan? Who do these souls belong to, and what do you intend to do with them?”
The Heartforger and the bone witch glanced at each other. “I told you how the old Heartforger had an antidote to the sleeping sickness,” the girl said slowly. “This is part of the remedy.”
“But no one is afflicted with the sleeping sickness here.”
The bone witch smiled. “Khalad and I have since found other uses for the antidote. I have learned that when heartforgers are involved, nothing is impossible.”
Lord Khalad shrugged. “No more so than Dark asha. Silver heartsglass cannot be raised from the dead, Tea—yet my cousin stands here with us. I have worked easier miracles.”
“For what use?” I insisted.
“To you, deprived of heartsglass, seeking Blade that Soars’s path,” she quoted. “Take that which came from Five Great Heroes long past and distill it into a heart of silver to shine anew. Khalad remembers every heartsglass he touches and can create copies of their urvan if needed. I wear Hollow Knife’s darksglass, but I shall need lightsglass. I intend to have both before long, to create shadowglass.”
“You intend to become immortal?” I was crushed, betrayed. What good was her hatred for the Faceless when she walked the same path?
The bone witch looked back out the window.
“I intend to die,” she said.
16
Our group was to be few in number: Fox, Kalen, Councilor Ludvig, and me. I had told Fox about Baron Cyran’s recovery and the forger’s visit, and he agreed it would be prudent not to say more to anyone else. But after thought and my last encounter with Kalen still on my mind, I had told the Deathseeker as well and asked if he would accompany us.
Then Likh came, unusually insistent and blushing. At the last minute, Inessa announced she and Althy would also be joining us.
“I want Khalad to take another look at Kance’s heartsglass,” she explained. “He might have something in his workshop that can provide more clues.”
The Willows was different from the rest of the city. Magic was a mandatory experience among the asha-ka, and one expected to find beautiful women there in expensive garments, with runes as easy to discern as the wind. Most people in downtown Ankyo, from the richest nobles to the lowest trader, steeped their bodies in magic. I could smell it in their hair, in their clothes, in the jewelries they wore.
Shops sold clothes with runic spells stitched into the fabric at a quality below authorized atelier shops, but the garments were affordable to most. There were different strains of inferior runeberry drinks, zivars promising all sorts of dubious abilities, and quack love potions. Numerous stalls lined the streets, specializing in spells of varying successes. What they lacked in authenticity, they more than made up for in demand.
“Kion,” I heard Kalen mutter behind me, the wryness in his tone unmistakable. “The city of plenty.”
We traveled through the widest, busiest streets first, where people wore heartsglass cases in elaborate metalwork. But the spells grew fewer and the garments simpler as the streets narrowed until we reached the poorest districts, where mud-smeared children played in front of decrepit gray houses. Men and women in drab clothing and hard faces hung linens from clotheslines or loitered in groups and stared as we passed. The air smelled of rotten eggs and discarded trash, unflavored by spells.
“For a city that looks as rich as Kion, I never imagined it would have such poor in these numbers,” Inessa murmured, looking stricken. She gripped her cloak, and I saw numerous cuts and bruises covering her hands and arms. Fox was as hard a taskmaster as Kalen.
“Cities are the same the world over,” Councilor Ludvig said. “The greater the stench of the city’s poor, the more extravagant the lives of the city’s rich.”
“We try our best,” Inessa said. “We created food programs. We try to find them decent places to live. But sometimes people slip through the cracks.”
“These are mighty big cracks,” Fox said. Princess Inessa looked away.
Our journey ended in a narrow lane too small to be called a street at a shack between two crumbling houses abandoned by even the most desperate. The path was filled with people, wretched and sickly.
The princess took a step back. Kalen forged on ahead, but a chorus of angry cries greeted him when he stepped past the line. I grabbed his arm, tugging him back.
“We were here first!” an old woman shouted shrilly.
“We’ve been waiting to see the boy!” another man shouted. “My child is sick. We will not wait another day more!”
“What is all this?” Likh gasped.
“They have come for the Heartforger,” Althy said. Few here could afford heartsglass cases, so many kept them in small bottles worn around their necks, and most glowed an unhealthy green. “They cannot afford a doctor.”
“And Lord Khalad and his master treat them?”
“As frequently as their time allows. The Heartforger is often away, so these duties have fallen to Khalad. Why did you think he left the palace?”
Kalen scowled. “We’ll be lucky to see him today.”
“Their ailments are common enough,” I observed, watching a heartsglass near me flicker the bright emerald color of bronchitis. “Fox, where is the nearest shop selling pots and pans?”
“There is one not too far from here,” Kalen said before my brother could speak. “I’ve been there before.”
“Purchase half a dozen of the largest pots they have. There are a few more essentials I need that might be harder to find. Silver needles and thread, a mortar and pestle, some small vials to put medicine in.” I reached into my bag and drew out several poultices.
“You knew why Khalad left the palace, didn’t you? He and the Old Forger always open their doors to the sick around this time of the month.”
“Khalad prides himself on being both a healer and a forger. I wasn’t expecting this many patients though.”
Kalen smiled, his eyes softening. “Write them down. There’s an apothecary nearby.”
“Can you find clean water?”
“There is a fresh stream that runs through the eastern district. It’s near the Deathseekers’ barracks, and they see to its maintenance.”
“Thank you. Fox, clear some space and find wood for kindling. Likh, make a fire where he shows you.”
“What do you intend to do, Lady Tea?” the younger boy asked.
“Khalad has too many people to see. Perhaps I can whittle down the number.” I looked at Althy, who was looking wordlessly back at me. “Althy? Is something wrong?”
“Merely looking at one of my better achievements,” the older asha said gravely. “Move over and make some room for me.”
Kalen returned promptly and departed again with a longer list of items. I filled two of the largest pots with water, setting them atop the fires Likh and Fox tended. Once the water boiled, Althy placed the instruments into the second pot and ladled some of the liquid into a smaller bowl. I plunged both my hands into the bowl, gritting my teeth at the scalding heat. Some of the people watched us warily but did not protest.
“Princess Inessa, would you mind grinding these herbs?”
“I’ve never ground anything before,” the girl said dubiously.
“Place them inside this bowl, Your Highness,” Fox said quietly, “and pound them with the mortar until they are as fine as you can make them. I’ll show you how.”
The princess hesitated, looked back at the crowd, then nodded.
Councilor Ludvig rolled up his sleeves. “I worked as a healer’s apprentice in my younger days,” he said. “This brings back memories.”
I approached the old woman who had called out and the young girl with her. “She has food poisoning,” I said, watching her heartsglass pulse yellow.
“Are you an apothecary, milady?”
“A bone witch,” I said honestly. “Her fever will grow worse before you can expect treatment. Let me help.”
“I do not have much money to spare…”
“I ask for nothing.”