Briar's Book (16 page)

He heard a click as Rosethorn put something down on her own counter, hard. “You see magic?” she asked sharply. “Are you sure?”

Tris nodded.

“We have substances that tell us if magic is in use,” Crane pointed out. “We employed those first.”

“Does it work if it’s only a sneeze-worth of magic?” Briar wanted to know. “I mean, it was so teeny I wasn’t even sure I saw it.”

“And thus you suggested Niklaren Goldeye’s student,” Crane said.

“I don’t know what kind of measure a sneeze-worth is,” Tris remarked. “But the amount is
very
small.”

Rosethorn came over. “Do you think it’s possible?” she asked Crane. “That it could be missed?”

“Or it may have been lost among all our other magics,” he admitted. “We cannot do any of this without a monumental use of power, but – there are drawbacks. We could have overlooked an infinitesimal amount of magic. Osprey!” He raised his voice so abruptly that Tris, Briar, and Rosethorn were all caught by surprise and jumped.

Osprey came in at a run. “Sir?” she gasped.

“We require Niklaren Goldeye. Wherever he is, here or in Summersea, find him
at once.”

N
iko was in the city. Messengers rode there to find him while the workroom was closed for its nightly cleaning. Briar, Tris, and Rosethorn returned to Discipline.

Crane came too. He and Rosenthorn were involved in a long debate, trying to create a new course of action. They had talked as they scrubbed, shouting to be heard in the washroom. They’d continued all the way to Discipline, squinting in moonlight to read their notes, and debated while nearly everyone else had supper and went to bed.

The dawn bell woke the sleepers. As they emerged from their rooms, they discovered that Niko had come. He sat with Crane and Rosethorn, who appeared not to have gone to bed at all.

“Tris,” Niko said, “eat breakfast quickly, please. We’re riding to Summersea.”

“One moment.” Crane looked as if he’d been caught by surprise. “Why her? Her vision-skills aren’t as strong as yours – ”

“Thanks ever so,” Tris mumbled, pouring tea for herself.

“I can make far better use of her,” persisted Crane. “There is work to do as we await your results.”

“You cannot make better use of her,” Niko said sharply, dark eyes glittering. “I will have to do a past-visualization working at some point. For it I require her strength and stubbornness. An extra pair of eyes will not come amiss, nor her ability to control water.”

“She is a clear and accurate note-taker,” protested Crane. “She thinks about the notes she is given. I made infinitely more progress yesterday, with her and Rosethorn and the boy, than I had until then.”

Rosethorn flapped a hand as if she fanned herself. “Spare my blushes,” she murmured. Briar snorted.

“I do not begrudge the acknowledgment of credit where it is due,” replied Crane loftily. “We have a good team. Breaking it up now is most ill-advised.”

“Find another scribe,” Niko snapped. “I’ll have the duke send his, if necessary – ”

“Is this what it’ll be like when I’m older and boys are fighting for the chance to kiss my hand?” Tris murmured to Sandry. The noble giggled.

“I do not want a ducal scribe; I want this girl. May I remind you – ”

“I will not go into the sewers without her!” Niko barked.

Everyone stared at him. Tris turned white. “Sewers?” she squeaked.

“The disease spreads as the water level in the sewers rises and damaged pipes leak into wells. It’s plain the two are connected,” Niko said. “If we are to go there without drowning, I need Tris. If I am to have power to work the spells that reveal the past and to follow the trail to whatever mage concocted this – horror – I will need Tris. No one else will do.”

“Not the sewers,” whispered the redhead, trembling. “They’re
dirty.”

“I
know,” replied Niko, his voice sharp.

For a long moment, no one said a word. Finally Crane sighed. “May she return to me when you are done?”

“I don’t
want
to go,” complained Tris. “Can’t I stay with Crane and Rosethorn?”

“We must,” Niko retorted. “Eat your breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Then change into old clothes. We need to do this
now.”

Tris walked to the stair, her feet dragging. Sandry followed her friend upstairs. “It’ll be all right,” those seated below heard her say.

“I hope so,” murmured Niko, rubbing his temples.

Just after Tris and Niko left, Frostpine arrived at Discipline. “More work for us,” he told Daja as she ate breakfast. “Protective talismans for the duke’s soldiers, to keep a rain of chamber pots and rocks from banging them on the head in the East District. I’d hoped they’d forgotten I can do such things, but someone apparently remembered.”

Crane raised her eyebrows. “How can you object to the protection of those who keep the duke’s peace?”

Frostpine sat next to Daja, plucking morsels from a muffin and popping them into his mouth. “A proper fear of such things keeps soldiers polite,” he observed. “Otherwise they might be tempted to push common folk around. Orders to enter people’s homes uninvited are a sore temptation for peacekeepers, I’ve found.”

“Have you any respect for proper order?” asked Crane.

“Depends on whose idea of order it is,” said Frostpine. “Daja, are you about done?”

She nodded, eating quickly.

Crane shook his head. “Rosethorn? Briar? We should go.”

As the others left, Sandry lay her head on the table. She was one solid ache, head to toe. A cool hand rested on her forehead; blearily she looked up at Lark. “I’m just tired,” she said. “I’m not sick.”

“We’re both tired,” replied Lark. “I really hate to do this, but – we’ve been at it for days. I think we have to rest. No work, just rest.”

“But Crane needs masks and gloves – ” argued Sandry. The idea of a day without pouring her magic into a slush of herbs, oils, and powders made her giddy.

“He’s got enough for two days,” Lark said firmly. “We really must stop for a while. Go back to bed, dear one. I’m doing the same – the dishes can wait until we get up.”

Crane, Rosethorn, and Briar had just reached the spiral road when Rosethorn halted, staring at the north gate. A covered wagon like that which had taken her, Flick, and Briar to Urda’s House rolled through. It was driven by a masked and gloved soldier of the Duke’s Guard: the red spot that meant she was free of the blue pox was vivid on her forehead. When the wagon drew near, Rosethorn motioned for the driver to stop.

“Are the city hospitals full, that you bring the sick here?” she asked.

The driver shook her head. “They’re near full, but the duke’s putting up two more, one on Market Square and one on Fuller’s Circle. These are temple folk with the blue pox – they’re to be nursed here, Honored Moonstream’s orders.”

“Temple folk?” cried Rosethorn.

“Who?” demanded Crane, grabbing the bridle of the horse closest to him. “Do you know the names?”

“Novices Fara, Olatji, Kazem, Alasha, Nanjo,” the driver recited tiredly. “Dedicates Egret, Treefrog, Henna, Whitelake. If I may –?”

Crane released the horses, and the wagon rolled on. Rosethorn was shaken and pale. Briar felt as if he’d been dropped down a hole. “Henna was fine when she left to look after the Arsenal setup,” he whispered. “Just fine.”

Rosethorn drew the gods-circle on her chest and closed her eyes to pray. Crane did the same. Briar waited them out as patiently as he could manage. If you give your life to a temple, he supposed, you believed that prayer worked. He knew better.

“Can we get to it?” he asked when they looked up again. “You said there’s things we can do without knowing just how this magic turned into the blue pox?”

“He’s right,” said Rosethorn grimly. “Let’s get to it. That’s the only way we can help them now.”

“Careful,” said Niko. “One more – you’re almost down.”

“And oh, how pleased I am to hear that,” muttered Tris.

“Can we get
on
with it?” Niko demanded. Tris was feeling for the next rung of the ladder with one foot. Like him, she wore thigh-high boots, oilcloth breeches and robe, an oilcloth cap, mask, and gloves. Like the other workers in Crane’s greenhouse, she also sported a large red dot at the middle of her forehead as a sign she was uninfected with the blue pox. Niko’s red dot, she’d noticed, was on the back of one hand. He never would have consented to an unsightly red mark anywhere on his face.

They had entered the system near Flick’s den, taking the path that Alleypup had used to bring Rosethorn down. Niko had chosen to start where the first case of blue pox had appeared, hoping to trace its path back to its origin.

This time, when Tris put down a foot, there was a small splash and the feel of a hard, flat surface. Wincing, she put her other foot down. Another splat. She released the ladder and turned to scowl at Niko.

Light bloomed around him to reveal a ledge four feet across, spotted with dark puddles. The canal’s waters ran one inch below the ledge. Tris saw lumps carried along by the swift-moving tide and rats that ran squeaking down the ledges, and cringed. The stench flooded through her nose, making her stomach roll. Trembling, she breathed with her mouth open, trying to smell only the oils in the treated cloth of her mask.

“This way, Rosethorn said.” Niko towed her along until they reached Flick’s den. Scavengers had been there already, taking the lamps and whatever else looked to be useful or interesting. Even the bed of rags had been picked over.

Niko removed a glove to rummage in a sack he carried on one shoulder. He produced a small stone jar and opened it. “Take off your spectacles,” he ordered Tris. “Remember the vision-enhancing ointment we made earlier this year?”

“Gum mastic, cinnamon bark
and
oil, at a silver crescent the ounce, no less! – ”

Niko sighed impatiently.

Tris glared at him and continued, “Heliotrope, saffron and cloves, lavender.”

“Very good,” Niko said. “Close your eyes.”

She felt something cool dotted first on one eyelid, then the other. “Wouldn’t it be better put on my specs, the same as your other vision spell?”

Niko sniffed. “That spell wore off a week after I placed it on you.”

Tris donned her spectacles. “You never told me.”

“It slipped my mind,” he replied as he put the balm on his own eyelids, then closed the jar. “There’s an advantage to instructing young mages: a suggestion counts for so much with you four. Now, what do you see?”

Her eyelids tingled. A gold veil dropped over her sight, one that shimmered and caught on objects, then pulled free. It stuck only in a wash through the sewer and on a line of footprints that turned into Flick’s den.

“There’s a gold tint in the water,” she said, watching it. “It comes from upstream. And it’s in footprints too.”

“The tint is throughout the city’s water. It is the footprints we must follow.” Niko walked down the trail. Tris resettled her spectacles on her masked nose – they didn’t fit properly with cloth in the way – and set out after him.

At first they walked in silence, intent on the trail. For some time the prints showed clear through even a slight amount of water. By the time Tris realized that either the ledge was sloping or the water was rising, she was ankle deep. “Oh, no!” she cried. “Niko, stop!”

“What’s the matter?” he demanded.

“We’re
walking
in it, and it’s getting deeper! You don’t need me for this – please let me go home!
Please?

Niko faced her.

“You see better than I do, and this is
disgusting.”
Tris knew she was whining and was ashamed, but the horror of soggy lumps that struck her legs in the dark made her dizzy. Never in her life had she wanted to be gone from a place so badly as now.

“Stop acting like a child!” Niko snapped. “This job needs both of us, I explained that to you! Complaining about how dreadful it is only makes things worse, and I don’t
need
them to be worse. I didn’t ask you to come here lightly, and I would really, really appreciate it if you could just
hold your tongue.”
He caught his breath and stood still for a moment, eyes closed. After a moment he said, “I hate this too, understand?”

Tris stared at him. Niko was sweating. It was damp and cold here, but she saw drops collect on his forehead. When she tentatively rested a hand on his arm, she could feel him trembling. She had been so busy worrying about herself that she had forgotten how finicky he was. He tended his clothing with minute zeal, inspected tableware in strange eating-shops for dirt that might have escaped a lazy washing, and aired out his bedding the moment he reached a new inn.

She looked at the water rolling down the tunnel toward them and thrust it aside with her power to bare the ledge. Holding it off their right, Tris said quietly, “See, everything’s fine. You should have reminded me to get the water out of the way, I’d have done it. Now we can see the footprints better.” She patted her teacher. “We’re all right. Come on.”

Wishing they had slept more, Briar followed Crane and Rosethorn into the big workroom. “If I may have your attention,” Crane said.

Everyone put down their work and looked at him.

“There is a magical element to the blue pox,” he announced.

Someone gasped. Two workers murmured to each other.

“May I have silence?” Crane asked, a bit too patient. He got it instantly. “Its components have yet to be determined. We hope to know by day’s end what precisely we are dealing with. Should that be the case, I believe we shall begin to make progress.”

The workers nodded their agreement. Stick with Crane long enough, Briar thought, and you forget that all of these folk must be pretty smart to get sent here, with so much at stake. He treats ‘em like silly bleaters, but they aren’t.

“In the meantime, we must start again, with those procedures used when we know that magic is present. Additives must be prepared – Osprey knows which of the lists to use. Rosethorn and I should review the trays that were experimented upon yesterday. Then, unless we, er, got lucky – ”