Untalented (18 page)

Interminable! That’s how each day away from the Vergal felt to Saroya. The news kept getting worse: the plague spread from a small area near the port and now moved inland at an alarming rate. Tense with worry about Veshwa, Saroya feared that plague or no plague, it had been so many years since Veshwa left House Roshan that anything could have happened—she could have died years ago. Saroya refused to think about that. Veshwa was alive, and Saroya would find her.

This time, Nalini and Saroya decided to split up. Saroya wanted to knock on doors in neighborhoods not yet afflicted by the fever, whereas Nalini wanted to explore the port. Nalini left Saroya with a list of health questions. “Might as well kill two birds with one stone, no?” They agreed to meet for lunch at a square midway between their two search areas.

“No, sorry.”

“Go away!”

“There’s nobody home!” This last from behind the closed door Saroya had just banged on.

Three hours of trudging up streets and alleys, and Saroya’s ears rang from all the doors slammed in her face. Too many people feared the plague to open their doors to a complete stranger, and when she asked Nalini’s questions, and told them she wasn’t a healer, their suspicions grew. The few willing to talk to her had never heard of Veshwa. She seethed with frustration as she arrived to meet Nalini.

“Is your day going any better than mine?”

Nalini shook her head, looking footsore and weary. “I’ve never seen anything like it. You know that body we saw in the cul-de-sac last week?” Saroya nodded. “Well, they’re dumping them everywhere now—people are dying too fast for the burial yards to keep up.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting sick?”

“Yes, but already, there are healers who won’t set foot in the Vergal. You should see how grateful people are when they open the door and see a healer standing there. I have nothing for the fever, but I treated two burns and cleaned out three cuts this morning.”

“They talk to you? I couldn’t get most of them to even open the door for me.” A sudden thought struck Saroya. “Do you have extra herbs in your pouch?”

Nalini eyed her suspiciously. “Yes, why?”

“They won’t let me in but they’ll talk to you. Maybe if I told them I was a healer’s assistant, they’d talk to me too.”

“But you’re not a healer.”

“No, and I wouldn’t claim to be one either. You know I can handle cuts and bruises, and my herb knowledge isn’t horrible. I’m not getting any useful answers for either you or me right now. We can use any edge we can find.”

“I don’t know, Saroya. The guild won’t approve.”

“Where’s the harm? I promise not to say I’m a full-fledged healer. You haven’t even finished your apprenticeship yet, and they’re asking you to risk your life wandering around this infested place.”

“All right, but I don’t like it. You can have half of what I’m carrying, if you promise not to say you’re a healer.”

Saroya grinned. “You won’t regret it.” Another thought struck her. “Could you write me a note?”

That afternoon, herbs and parchment stating she was a healer’s assistant in hand, she fared much better. The inhabitants of the Vergal seemed much more inclined to trust a healer’s assistant than a stranger off the street. While she did not find anybody who knew the whereabouts of Veshwa, she diligently obtained all the information that Nalini had asked for, and made a note of the buildings where no one answered her knock. The grueling day highlighted the monumental task ahead of her, but she was much more optimistic when, in late afternoon, she met Nalini again on the outskirts of the Vergal. Nalini looked pale and drained.

“What’s up?” Saroya asked.

“I just ran into a fellow healer and it looks like this is it for us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The plague’s spreading too fast. They’re going to quarantine the Vergal. The king will issue a royal decree tomorrow.”

The blood fled Saroya’s face. “What does it mean?”

“It means no one in or out until the decree is rescinded. Even healers who stay to help won’t be allowed to travel back and forth.”

“Are you staying?”

“No, I’m not a full healer and the guild wants me to finish my training first.”

“How am I going to find Veshwa?”

“You’ll just have to wait until this is all over.”

Saroya shook her head. “By then, Veshwa could be dead.” Nalini watched her as she puzzled through her options. “When does the quarantine start?”

“Tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great. That gives me some time. I need you to get me more maps of the Vergal, and more healing supplies.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m staying here.” Saroya ignored the frightened expression on her friend’s face. She had no choice. She had to stay to have any hope of finding Veshwa before the plague got her.

“You can’t! You’ll be stuck here for who knows how long. Where will you live?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I know who to talk to first.” Saroya’s mind spun. “I’ll keep doing your survey for you while I’m here.”

Nalini looked doubtful. Saroya grabbed her by the shoulders and stared her straight in the eyes. “I have to do this.”

“I know.” Nalini sniffled. “I just keep thinking, if I’d stood up for you when Eiden Callor asked me about the ring …”

“Get going—we don’t have much time. Meet me tomorrow morning at the Spotted Salmon Pub. Early.”

The counter had accumulated a few more scratches since Saroya last frequented the Spotted Salmon. Balreg placed a glass of cider in front of her. “Back so soon?”

“Can we talk in private?”

He raised a greasy eyebrow, shrugged, and inclined his head towards a door in the back wall. She followed him into a combination keg storage and pantry.

“Now, what is it you don’t wish my genteel clientele to hear?”

“Tell me about Veshwa.”

“I don’t know any Veshwa.”

Saroya exhaled in frustration. “You said you could tell me about my friend.”

“I said I would ‘trade’ for information about your friend.”

“Do you have family?”

“A wife. And a son.”

“I have information that can help them escape the plague.”

Balreg stared at her dubiously. “All right. Spill it.”

“First you tell me about Veshwa. And you agree to give me a room here for the next little while.”

“What do you think this is, an inn? The upstairs barely fits my family as it is. I don’t have room for you.”

“You will once you hear my news.”

He blew air from between pursed lips, and leaned back against a rough-hewn shelf. “Fine. A woman named Veshwa once lived near the Minor West Canal. But she’s long gone from there.”

“Did she die?” The knot of worry in Saroya’s stomach tightened.

“I didn’t hear of it if she did. Now, your turn.”

Saroya ran a hand through her copper mane. He hadn’t given her much to go on but a trade was a trade. “They’re quarantining the Vergal tomorrow. Anybody still in the quarter after that will not be able to leave. If you have family anywhere else in the city, send your child there. I’d do it tonight, if I was you, and I’d also be discreet.”

Balreg cursed. Saroya continued, “If you feel you need to stay with them, I can watch the pub for you, although I won’t have time to run it.”

“Why should I trust you with my pub?”

Saroya shrugged. “Trust me, don’t trust me. It’s your decision. I’m staying in the quarter anyway and I’d rather not have to hunt for a room.”

Balreg tossed his ever-present greasy rag onto the far corner of a shelf. “Bah. Come with me—I’ll show you your room.” He beckoned her to follow him up a dingy stairway in the hall past the storeroom. Plague or no plague, his apartments were a step up from the hard stone of the bridge.

The next morning at dawn she sat in the empty pub room eating the skimpy breakfast Balreg’s wife placed in front of her. The woman gave her a cursory tour of the kitchen before disappearing into the back alley with a small bag on her back and her son’s hand clasped in hers. Balreg slid the key to the lock across the counter to Saroya before following his family, shooting parting instructions over his shoulder. “… and don’t feed the cats, just leave them some water. Otherwise they get lazy and let the rats overrun the stores.”

Saroya found a scrap of parchment and some ink and, hoping at least a few of the pub’s clients could read and spread the word, made up a sign that she tacked onto the front door: “Closed Due to Death in Family”. She was barring the door when a timid knock interrupted her. She let in a drawn-faced Nalini.

“You made it.”

Nalini dropped two large bags onto the counter. “It wasn’t easy. They’re already setting up barricades on some of the bridges over the river. If I don’t get back across the canals before word gets out I could get stuck in a riot.”

“What did you bring me?”

Nalini listed the items on her fingers: two maps of the Vergal, miscellaneous herbs, ointments and compresses, several reams of parchment, spare quills and ink, a healer’s belt pouch, and a basic healing text.

“Have you found a way we can pass messages and supplies back and forth?”

“Messages will be relatively easy. There’s a healer staying behind—his name’s Faro—and he’ll have a special quarantine pass so that he can communicate with the guild. I’ve told him you’re doing research for me and my guildmaster.” Nalini passed her a small parchment with the man’s details. “If he finds out you’re doing anything other than ‘research’, I’ll be in big trouble with the guild.”

“He won’t find out from me.”

“Supplies will be harder. I’ll need more time to come up with a plan. I’ll let you know in a message if I figure out something else, but until then you should have enough in those bags to last you a little while.”

Saroya accompanied Nalini back to the edge of the Vergal. They stopped a hundred paces from a small bridge. Saroya noted the guards and the crowd already gathered, muttering and angry at being denied exit from the Vergal.
 

Nalini pointed across the river. “Look, things could get bad and I may not be able to get messages to you. Do you see that square on the other side? It’s within shouting distance—not private but as a last resort … I’ll come once a week at this time to see if there’s anything you need.”

Saroya hugged Nalini, then they parted ways. She watched to make sure that Nalini’s healer’s pouch was enough to get her across the bridge and out of the Vergal then turned back to the pub. She thought she’d known loneliness before. She was wrong.

Loric paced up and down while Daravela studied her fingernails.

“So you refuse to help?” he asked.

Daravela shrugged. “Someone may have tampered with Padvai’s Testing, but the evidence is circumstantial, at best. I can find no proof of complicity on Urdig’s part. Your wife could corroborate nothing.”

“That’s it then. You’re washing your hands of the whole thing.” Loric worried she questioned the wisdom of allying herself with him.

“I didn’t say that. Are you any closer to confirming Mistress Bardan’s identity?”

“My inquiries yielded nothing.”

“You’ve been saying that for months.”

“If you doubt me, feel free to end our little agreement.”

“I may have a lead for you. The doyenne in Adram Vale reports that Mistress Bardan asked about a woman named Veshwa.” Loric stopped pacing as Daravela continued. “If you feel matters are coming to a head, you may want to put more pressure on Urdig. I understand some Houses now lobby for greater restrictions on Untalents.”