Thick wooden shelves held up ledgers, one of which was open on a desk, next to a candle. From my quick glance, I noted long lists of complex plant names with observations alongside them, much like those of a physician. This was promising: there seemed to be the satisfying air of logic about her profession.
‘So how can I be of help?’ she asked. ‘It is not often I have a gentleman of such lofty upbringing visiting me.’ Her voice was soothing. I could have listened to her talking all night long.
‘Is it my accent?’ I wondered if I sounded out of touch with people who lived even a few streets down from my own.
She gave a gentle laugh and walked behind her work desk, on which stood glass jars and wooden trays with little dividers. ‘Your boots, actually. I’ve not seen boots that well made for a long time.’ Her gaze moved up and down my body, keenly assessing me.
‘I’m here because I need something to calm the mind.’
‘Could you be more specific?’ she asked. ‘Is it a headache?’
‘No.’ I watched her grind some seeds or herbs with a pestle and mortar.
‘It’s OK, it really is,’ she said. ‘I don’t know who you are; you don’t have to tell me either. I won’t even tell you my name, if anonymity is important. But I can’t help you unless you tell me the specific symptoms. I’m not some countryside witch. There’s a considered process to my methods. Now, are you having strange thoughts or dreams?’
‘No more than anyone else,’ I replied.
‘Well, we can rule out trying a mage to read them for diagnosis then. Tell me more.’
‘It’s my father. He suffers from seizures. I’m concerned I might have inherited such things, though I’ve shown no signs of it. I’m worried that I too might be cursed by the gods.’
‘Who is your god?’
‘Goddess,’ I replied. ‘Polla.’
She nodded. ‘The lady of knowledge – I’ve read her texts and can see why your mind matters to you. But tell me about your father’s symptoms.’
We probably both realized this was a charade, but I revealed what I could under the guise of my father: that the seizures occurred, sometimes in sleep; that they came and went with no reason nor rhyme; that he could remember nothing about them at the time; and that the experience was certainly not one conducive to visions. I added that he was used to them – that they were part of his life now, and he accepted them and the headaches that sometimes came with them, but he would certainly appreciate them to strike less often so that he could get on with his life.
When I finished the description of the affliction, the apothecary stopped what she was doing and nodded. ‘I’ve heard of such seizures before. Sometimes they come after an injury to the head, sometimes they come after a great illness. I’m afraid I have nothing that can stop them for ever. However, I have heard of some remedies that can – for some people – lower the risk of these seizures occurring, so that may be of help to your father as well as yourself, if you are worried such things are hereditary.’
I nodded and leaned on the edge of the table. ‘You’re certain they’ll work?’
‘Some people of this city will claim opening up a rabbit’s entrails will help you understand the world better. Some people think they can divine things from the skies. Who am I to argue if they believe it to be helpful to them? All I know is that I have made years of studies – as did my mother, and as did her mother. I keep honest notes of what I do. As a man of Polla, I’m sure you appreciate such methodology.’
I let out a gentle sigh. ‘I’ll take whatever I can.’
She moved to her shelves and began looking for certain jars, picking them up one by one. She laid them out on her workbench and began transferring the contents into a tiny wooden box.
‘How much do I owe you?’ I asked.
‘Ten pecullas,’ she replied and, after seeing my reaction, added, ‘prices are going up each year due to demand for herbs. It’s the same all across the country.’
Funny how we only appreciated the true cost of items when we could barely afford them. I reached into my pocket, counted the coins out and handed them over. She passed me the small box. ‘Make a tisane from these – just three pinches in each cup. Drink it as often as you can.’
‘What’s in here?’
‘Mainly gingko biloba, which is a known aid for matters of the mind, but I have put in three or four exotic species in addition. I would like it if you could let me know if your father improves at all.’
This felt like an illicit transaction, but I nodded, thanked her, and without making eye contact moved towards the door then paused. ‘I don’t suppose you would know what henbane could be used for, do you? All I know is that it’s a poison.’
‘And a deadly one, too!’ She gave a brief laugh, though her expression grew to one of anger. ‘You don’t want to take any of that. Trust me.’
‘No, I’m not going to. I just wondered if there may be other uses for it.’
‘Some claim to use it in making alcoholic brews, but mostly it’s used as a poison.’
‘Do you know the nearest place where the plant grows?’
‘Certainly not near Tryum. I know of suppliers who can fetch some in from further afield, but the nearest grower would be in Maristan at the very least, and that’s a few days’ travel. The poison tends to be created out of the city and imported. You should take care not to acquire any, stranger. Many a good man has died from encounters with that plant.’
Perhaps Drullus was one of them.
Perhaps Some Dancing
‘Drakenfeld!’ Senator Veron marched towards me in his smart evening attire as I approached the front gates of my home.
‘Senator Veron. You’re dressed for a night out in the city, I see.’ I indicated his rich brown cloak, red tunic and polished boots.
‘I am,’ he replied, clasping my arm. ‘And you’re coming with me.’
‘I am?’
‘You are.’
‘Where are we going?’ I asked, as he guided me along the street.
‘For drinks, and perhaps some dancing.’
‘Oh, I’m not really the dancing type.’
‘We’re not the ones who will be doing the dancing.’
‘Any particular reason for this?’
‘No one should have to spend the night of his father’s funeral alone,’ he declared. ‘So I’ve taken it upon myself to cheer you up.’
‘You have?’
‘And you can thank me later.’
As we passed through the busy streets, he casually asked me how I was getting on with the case and whether or not my investigation of the Skull and Jasmine troupe produced anything of note.
It became apparent, very early on in our relationship, that Veron was something of a gossip and a socialite but his flamboyant charms were entertaining. Tonight he clearly wanted information to satisfy his own curiosity, and use it in whatever way he could to gain an advantage over other senators. It would do no harm to keep him on side, so while I did not reveal my knowledge of Drullus’ death, my adventures in the lower city seemed more than enough to keep him interested.
‘I’ve come also with a message for you,’ Veron announced. ‘The king wants to see you tomorrow, and he requested that I let you know. He’s after something of a progress report – he’s been rotten company since the murder. His mood has been foul and, on quite unrelated matters, he’s ordered his personal guard to beat a priest and a judge – though the latter had it coming to him, to be fair. Anyway, Licintius wants the head of Lacanta’s killer on a spike at the earliest opportunity.’