Oracle (Book 5) (25 page)

“Yes,” said Silvanus in a huff, “well I already explained my position on that to Mr. Maklavir here. The surgery is far too dangerous to perform. It can’t be done.” He glanced nervously at the door, feeling a growing sense of apprehension at having the three people standing in the entryway to his house. “Now I need you all to—”

Maklavir reached over and pulled Kara’s hood down.

The red-haired woman didn’t move. Her eyes stared straight ahead, unseeing and lifeless.

Silvanus felt his words die on his tongue. He stared at the beautiful woman.

Maklavir straightened, his face somber. “She has come out of her coma, Dr. Silvanus, but she’s still lost to us. Lost in her own mind.”

“Maklavir says you’re the best surgeon in all of Vorten,” Joseph said quietly. He pulled off his hat. “We need your help to get the last shards of the Soulbinder out of her. I think that’s what is causing…” his eyes flickered with pain, “
this
.”

“Silvanus?” Hetty’s shrill voice came from up the stairs. “Is everything all right down there?”

“Just fine, my peach,” Silvanus shouted back. He turned back to Joseph. “Look, what you’re asking is impossible. It would mean the girl’s life.”

“Look at her,” Joseph said. “She’s already dead. We need to try.”

Silvanus felt a growing twinge of apprehension. “Bring her to my office tomorrow. I…can take a look at her then. I can’t promise anything, but perhaps if we—”

“I don’t think you understand,” Joseph said. “We need to do this here. Tonight.”

Silvanus stared at the bearded man. “You’re mad. Even if I agreed to such a ludicrous request, I certainly can’t perform an operation here in my house. I don’t have my surgical equipment, my—”

“We’ll have to make do.” Joseph’s face was set like granite. “If you need anything Maklavir or I can get it for you.”

Silvanus felt his heart beat a little faster. He looked from Joseph to Maklavir, then back again. “I’m not quite sure that I’m understanding you,” he said, trying to keep his voice as steady as he could. “Surely you can’t—”

“Let me make it crystal clear to you,” Joseph interrupted. “The gendarmes are hunting for us. We’ve spent the last twelve hours dodging patrols and crawling through the rain and the mud trying to get to your house. We are officially out of other options.” He put a hand meaningfully on the hilt of his sword. “One way or another, you’re going to do this surgery. Now.”

Silvanus was speechless. He felt his insides turning to soup. The room began to spin around him.

“On the plus side,” Maklavir said smoothly, “we are quite willing to pay you for your time and effort.”

Silvanus stared at Joseph’s sword, then looked back at Maklavir. “You can’t seriously be going along with this? You’re…you’re a man of position, Maklavir, a trusted barrister in this city.”

A shadow passed over Maklavir’s face. He took a step back. “Kara is my friend,” he said slowly, giving an odd emphasis on the last word. “I owe her my life. And if this is her only chance to truly live, Dr. Silvanus, then I not only support my friend’s assertion,” he put a hand on his own sword, “but if it comes to it I will run you through myself.”

Joseph lifted his eyebrows and looked at his friend in surprise.

Silvanus’ mouth dropped open. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

“Now,” said Maklavir in the interval of silence that followed, “I don’t suppose I could trouble you for a spot of tea? I am absolutely drenched.”

Hetty lifted the pot of boiling water off the fireplace. Her face was pale, and she was dressed in a nightgown.

“Put that over there,” Silvanus ordered, pointing to the counter. He leaned over a small open satchel, muttering under his breath as he examined a series of small scalpels and knives.

“We’ll need more water,” Joseph said to no one in particular. He nodded at Maklavir. “Grab that spare pail in the back. We’ll heat it up too.”

“Half of these are dull,” Silvanus said sourly. “The other half are worse than dull.” He straightened, groaning as he stretched his back. “Honestly. Surgery in a kitchen? This is beyond insane. If your friend doesn’t die from the procedure itself she’ll surely die of infection. For Eru’s sake, we
eat
on this table.”

“Here now,” Hetty said, her face flushing a bright red. “I’ll have you know that I keep a clean kitchen, Silvanus. Good enough for surgery or whatever else you may need.”

Silvanus rolled his eyes. “That’s not what I meant, Hetty. I—”

“You heard the woman,” Joseph said with a grim nod. “It will have to do.” He put a satchel down on the table and opened the flap. “I’ll need a bit of boiling water myself.” He pulled out several small jars filled with colored creams and lotions, then began setting them down on the counter.

Silvanus arched an eyebrow. “What in Zanthora are those?”

“Salves,” said Joseph without looking up. “Ointments. They speed up healing, numb pain.” He gave the kitchen table a glance. “And prevent infection.”

Silvanus leaned back and crossed his arms. “I see. Herbal medicines, eh? Half of that backwoods lore is just old wives’ tales, and the other half is liable to kill you.”

Joseph looked up from his bag. “I know the difference between a greenrot mushroom and a jacoya root, thank you very much. You should pay attention. You might learn a thing or two about salves.”

“
Learn something
?” Silvanus sputtered. “I happen to be an emeritus professor of anatomy, biology, and, and—” He flustered for a moment, his teeth practically grinding.

“Physiology, dear,” Hetty called from where she was by the fire.

“Yes of course,” Silvanus said angrily. He turned his face back to Joseph. “But if you think you know more about medicine and surgery than me, than by all means smear whatever kind of forest gunk you want all over your friend. This whole operation is practically a death sentence for her anyways.”

“Dear,” said Hetty quietly, “do try to calm down. Remember your heart.”

“Regnuthu take my heart!” Silvanus stormed. He moved around the table and stuck a finger at Joseph. “You’re signing this girl’s death warrant, and you’re dragging me along with you. I can’t perform a surgery here, under these conditions. It’s impossible. The risk of infection is too high. I don’t have any of my proper surgical tools. The lighting is terrible, and I have no assistants—”

“I’ll be your assistant,” Joseph said. His voice was so low that it could barely be heard over the crackling of the fire. “Once the surgery starts I’ll do whatever you tell me.”

“
You
?” Silvanus threw back his head and snorted like a wild stallion. “Ridiculous. Preposterous.”

“I would do it,” said Maklavir as he put the pail of water down on the kitchen floor by the fireplace, “but I have this thing about blood. Makes me a bit queasy at the best of times, and I’m rather afraid I tend to faint when I see it.”

Silvanus stared at Maklavir, then back at Joseph. “You’re
killing
her. You know that, don’t you?  And you’re forcing me to participate in her murder. Well, I tell you I won’t do it.”

Joseph carefully set the last bottle of salve on the counter, then looked up at Silvanus. “We can’t kill her. She’s already dead.” He gestured over to Kara, who was sitting placidly in a chair by the table. “Look at her. What if she was your wife? Your daughter? Would you let her live like that if there was a chance, even the smallest chance that you could save her?”

“He has a point, Silvanus,” Hetty said. She came up to Kara and brushed the girl’s red hair out of her face. “Poor dear. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Great Eru in Pelos, woman, don’t take his side!” Silvanus thundered. “These two men have taken us hostage and are forcing me to perform surgery.”

Hetty turned. “But just look at her, Silvanus. If there is anything you can do to help her, wouldn’t you at least try?”

“Please,” Joseph said softly. “We’ll be gone by mid-morning, I promise. And if she dies then there’s no blood on your hands.” He looked long and hard at Kara. His eyes were bleary and red from lack of sleep. “I would do it myself, but I know that this is beyond me.” He glanced back at Silvanus. “I need a surgeon. Someone to get the last few shards out of her.”

Silvanus was quiet for a long moment. “You’ve had medical experience?”

Joseph nodded. “I’ve patched wounds, pulled out bullets, sewn up gashes. Combat injuries, mostly. But I also know a thing or two about forest gunk, as you call it. There’s hardly a disease that I can’t whip up a cure for.”

Silvanus chewed on his lip for a moment. He looked at Kara, then at his wife’s sorrowful face, then back at Joseph. He sighed. “You know there’s no guarantee that removing the shards will produce any kind of change in her condition?”

Joseph’s face darkened. “I know. But we have to try.”

Kara began to chant in her low, sing-song voice.

Hetty backed away suddenly, her eyes wide.

“Fangs in the east, shadow in the south,” Kara sang. “A fire rises in the west.”

The room seemed to grow suddenly chill.

“What’s she saying?” Silvanus asked.

Joseph ignored the question. “We don’t have much time. We have to start now.”

Silvanus shook his head. “We need anesthesia.”

Joseph reached into the herbal satchel and pulled out a large flask. “Xoma scent,” he said. “Now let’s do this.”

“Seek the raven lost in the sea,” Kara said, her eyes glazed over. “The raven lost in the sea.”

Silvanus gave a slow nod of his head. “All right.” He reached for the Xoma scent.

“You still look positively chilled,” Hetty said. She put a steaming mug of tea down on the table next to Maklavir’s chair. “Here.”

Maklavir picked up the mug with smile. “Thank you, Hetty. You’re too kind.”

The woman shrugged and sat down in another chair in the small drawing room. “Just be glad that there was any hot water left at all.”

Maklavir glanced anxiously at the dark hallway that led back to the kitchen. “Do you think…?” he asked weakly. “I mean, do you suppose…?”

Hetty leaned forward and patted Maklavir on the arm. “I wouldn’t worry if I were you, Maklavir. No news is still good news.”

“Right,” Maklavir mumbled. He took a sip of the scalding tea, moving the liquid around in his mouth quickly to avoid being burned. “Look, Hetty…” He paused for a moment, trying to find the right words. “I’m…sorry about all this. Barging into your home, I mean.”

“And holding my husband and me hostage?” Hetty took a sip of her own tea.

“Um, yes.” Maklavir took another drink, enjoying the sweetness of the honey. “I know this may not sound like much, but I’m really not a very violent man. Actually, I hardly know how to use a sword.”

“Oh, I know,” Hetty said with a polite smile.

Maklavir felt a vague sense of offense. “Really? How did you know?”

Hetty set her cup down on the side table with a shrug. “I can read people very well. You don’t seem like a thug or a killer to me.”

“Yes, well I suppose you’re right.” Maklavir cupped his hands around the hot tea mug.

“Don’t feel too bad,” Hetty said. She took another sip of her tea. “Why, if I really thought you were dangerous I would have poisoned that tea you’re drinking right now.”

Maklavir stopped with the mug halfway to his mouth. “You…
what
?”

“Relax,” Hetty said with a laugh. “There’s nothing wrong with the tea.” She reached over towards some knitting that was lying next to the chair. “Besides, only a gentleman drinks tea, not a brute. In the future you might want to consider a more threatening drink of choice. I would suggest beer or coffee.”

Maklavir took a thoughtful drink. “Black tea, perhaps?”

Hetty shuddered. “No milk or honey? Sounds positively barbarian.”

Maklavir gave a half-hearted smile. He glanced back down towards the hallway again. His foot tapped nervously on the carpet.

“So,” said Hetty as she began her knitting in earnest, “how long have you been in love with Kara?”

Maklavir choked, almost spurting his mouthful of tea onto the carpet.

Hetty waited patiently, her knitting needles clicking together.

Maklavir finally managed to swallow the tea, then gave a sputtering cough. He looked up at Hetty. “In love with Kara?” He gave his trademarked lopsided smile. “I assure you, madam, I have no idea—”

Hetty arched an eyebrow and gave a knowing smile. Her knitting needles continued to whir in action.

Maklavir gave a heavy sigh and collapsed back into his chair. “Great Eru. Is it that obvious?”

“I told you,” Hetty clucked, “I’m a good judge of people.”

Maklavir leaned forward in his chair. He clasped both hands together in front of him. “Listen, Joseph can’t know. He—” Maklavir paused, searching out his words carefully. “He adores Kara. Always has.”

Hetty gave Maklavir a piercing look. “And you never intended to fall in love with the poor girl?”

Maklavir looked back at the hallway to the kitchen. “Yes. I mean no.” He made a face, tapping the fingers of his hands together. “It just sort of…happened. I didn’t mean for it to, wasn’t looking for it, but then one day I found myself—” He took a breath. “Well, looking at Kara in a totally different way.”

Hetty pulled the yarn. “And does she share your feelings?”

Maklavir rubbed his face, his eyes still on the hallway. “I…don’t know. At least I can’t be sure. I thought perhaps…” He stopped mid-sentence, as if realizing that his thought was foolish. “Look, a lot has happened. The Despair came, and Kara was possessed by the Seteru, and she’s been in a coma all this time—”

Hetty gave an understanding nod. “I see.”

Maklavir was silent for a long moment. Try as he might, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the dark hallway. “I’ve been with a lot of women in my life. But I’ve never really…” He paused.

“Cared about any of them?” Hetty prodded. She finished the row on her knitting.

Maklavir gave a sober nod. “No. Not until Kara.” He flopped back in his chair, his arms splayed out on the rests. “I’ve been busy, you understand. A full life as a barrister and a diplomat. I was in the King’s service. I was travelling—”