The woman cast an agonized glance at the long line of people before her and nodded.
I led them to the space Fox had cleared, took up the ground herbs Princess Inessa made, and placed them inside a metal bowl. I ladled hot water into it, then poured it all through a sieve. A little of its contents I poured into a vial and handed it to the old woman. “She must drink everything,” I instructed. “Boil two spoonfuls from this pack in a glass of water, and have her drink it every two hours for the next eight. She should be fine by morning.”
“Bless you, miss!” the old woman said, nearly crying, clasping the small vial to her chest. The young girl no longer looked as ill, pink creeping back into her heartsglass.
There were people who decided against leaving the line, but there were many others, tired of waiting, who approached Althy and me for help. Together, we prescribed treatments for horserash, persistent coughs, small chills, and migraines. Althy set splints and stitched open wounds, and I wrapped sores and cuts in clean bandages. Kalen was constantly coming and going, leaving us new vials, herbs, and gauze. Likh and Fox manned the growing number of fires where pots boiled and smoked, the former stoking them with well-placed runes and the latter maintaining their heat. Both stopped to assist us when we needed bones set. Princess Inessa had grown proficient with the mortar and pestle, grinding at the wooden bowl with gusto.
I worked on a dislocated shoulder, Councilor Ludvig holding the man in place and Inessa waiting with clean bandages, her face turning pale with every crack and pop.
“Red limebeet?” someone asked.
“Yes,” I said, looking up. The crowd had thinned noticeably, and the half dozen people remaining stepped to one side to allow Khalad closer. Dark shadows lined his eyes, and he looked wan.
“Have you been treating patients all morning?” I demanded.
“And all of last night. I wondered why the number I have seen to seemed less than the number I’d observed outside.”
Likh rose with a clean towel and gently wiped Khalad’s face. Blushing hard, he sat back down as the forger smiled his thanks.
“We would have offered assistance had you told us,” Althy admonished him.
“I didn’t think about that,” Khalad said meekly. “I’ve always done things on my own.”
“Well, get used to us.” With a sharp jerk, I snapped the man’s shoulder back in place, the patient’s cries muffled by the clean rag I had forced on him. Inessa swayed. Fox placed a hand on her shoulder to steady her, and she leaned into him.
“Keep all weight off for at least a week,” I told the man. “Drink this to ease the pain.”
Inessa had let go of Fox but did not move away. Kalen was watching me, no longer angry as he’d been the day before but still oddly cryptic.
“Did you bring the heartsglass?” Khalad asked Princess Inessa.
“Well, I… Yes.” The girl started to take it out.
“Not here.” Khalad glanced around. “My home isn’t much, but I’d prefer we do this inside.”
“Do your hands hurt?” Fox asked quietly as the others followed Khalad.
“The herbs make it sting,” Inessa confessed ruefully. “My cuts haven’t fully healed yet.”
Fox took some leftover poultice and rubbed it on her palms. Inessa’s heartsglass glowed. Memories flickered through my brother’s bond, of conversations and laughter, of him rubbing her fingers when she complained about the cold and lifting them to kiss.
Fox froze. Inessa froze. Without thinking, my brother had been lifting her bruised hands toward his mouth.
Shaking, Inessa quickly let go. I hurried inside, not wanting to show them how much I’d seen.
? ? ?
To call it a house was an overstatement; Khalad’s home had only one room that could barely accommodate us all. Glass cabinets filled with bottles lined the walls. Some vials had labels, like Loss and Grieving and Childbirth, which presented more questions than answers. There was a curious sign plastered against the lone window—
GUILT—1 sigloi
MELANCHOLY—2 sigloi
LONGING—4 sigloi
A table, two small chairs, and two narrow cots were the extent of the decor. A few loose stones served as paperweights, some carefully balanced over the others. Both forgers share similar habits, I thought, remembering Khalad’s pyramid of pebbles at the inn in Odalia.
“But you’re both Heartforgers!” Princess Inessa burst out, shying away from the meager furniture like it was corrosive to the touch.
“He offers his services for free, Your Highness,” Althy pointed out. “He derives no income from treating ailments since he does not charge for them.”
“There must be over two hundred bottles in here,” I marveled.
“My mother should be treating you better than this, Khalad!” Inessa was still in disbelief. “I will not sit back and allow an Odalian prince to live in such squalor.”
“We refused her offer. Three times. We charged exorbitant heartsglass prices for the rich snobs Master didn’t like, as part of the Heartforgers’ oath, but he gave most of it to charity. He said he’d rather live like one of Her Majesty’s poorest citizens so she’d occasionally remember to treat them better.”
“But that doesn’t apply to you!”
“It does. I took the vow too, remember? If he’d been here, my master wouldn’t have welcomed you in, Your Highness. He would’ve turned you out on your rears and then laughed about the irony over tea.”
“And you’ve been keeping house for him while he’s away?”
“We mostly treat the sick here, like today. I’m only an apprentice, but the demand’s so high, he lets me do my own projects.” A shadow crossed Khalad’s face. He played with the pile of paperweights. “We were knee deep in orders, and it really wasn’t a good time for him to leave. But he insisted it was important.”
“It was,” Councilor Ludvig murmured. “The sleeping sickness—the forger said it was caused by a strange rune. One he’d never seen before.”
“None of the runes in the Faceless’s book speak of sleeping sicknesses,” Althy said.
“Perhaps he left a clue to the cure somewhere around here?” Princess Inessa took out one of the largest vials from the cabinet, a purple container with “Sad Sleep” written across its surface.
“Your Highness, please don’t touch any of the—”
Inessa pulled the cork free. I was immediately assaulted by visions of—
—a young woman, weeping by the grave of her betrothed, laying flowers upon the—
Khalad snatched the bottle out of Inessa’s hands and hastily stoppered it. “Careful, Inessa! It took months to find this!”
“What was that?” Likh asked, swaying on his feet. “I thought I was…kneeling on a grave…”
“Inessa,” Althy admonished. “This is Khalad’s home. It is discourteous of you to take things without his permission. This is not the palace where you can do as you see fit without repercussions.”
The First Daughter’s shoulders slumped. “I apologize, Khalad. I just feel…helpless. Is there nothing we can do for Kance?”
“I’d like another look at his heartsglass.” Khalad squinted at it. “See here? There’s an empty space between his heartbeats. It’s small and very easy to miss, but I’m not mistaken.”
“I don’t see anything,” Likh confessed.
“I do,” I said. “He’s right, but I wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t pointed it out.”
“I told Lady Tea and Sir Fox how the victims of this sickness are descendants of each of the Five Great Heroes. Something was taken from them—Master called it an urvan, the soul.”
“A soul?” Kalen sounded skeptical.
“It’s the essence of who you are, so to speak. It’s your memories that define and shape your soul, mold it into the person you are. Drawing Heartsrune nourishes your soul further. People have longer lifespans with heartsglass, are less prone to diseases.”