There was a short story in Tableta about the increasing number of violent crimes in the taudis areas across Solidar, but no speculation about the reasons, and no mention of tainted elveweed. Another short story mentioned another case of arson-this time the grain ware houses in the area near Piedryn-and an instance where the lower level of another ware house was flooded by the failure of a retaining wall alongside an adjoining millrace. The story didn’t say who owned the ware houses, but I was getting the impression there was a definite problem with grain ware houses.
I’d barely settled into my study at the station when the morning courier run from headquarters brought various documents and reports, as well as a brief note from Commander Artois thanking me for the report on the explosion and asking to be informed of any other developments that might bear on the case. Since I didn’t have any, not yet, I could put off replying until I got another officious communique from the subcommander.
After that, I reviewed the log and duty books, checking on what had happened since I’d left the station the afternoon before, and then I made a quick inspection. The holding cells were empty, although it was rare to have anyone there from late morning until late afternoon or early evening, since most offenders were picked up from afternoon on, and any offender brought in overnight was dispatched to headquarters for formal charging right after the morning shift change on the headquarters collection wagon.
Next came a review of the station accounts, and various other oversight chores, before I could leave the station.
Jaerdol and Zandyr were the two patrollers on the day shift who had the taudis round just east of the station-the blocks that Horazt called “his.” I caught up with them just short of Dugalle a glass after midday.
“Captain, sir.”
“What troubles do you have today?” I asked cheerfully.
“Nothing today,” replied Jaerdol.
“That’s good, too, sir, after yesterday,” added Zandyr. “It took the both of us to handle that fellow who tried to cut Musario. Sure made a mess of his bistro, but he’s got it cleaned up already.”
“He gave you a meal today?” I grinned.
“Well, sir, he did offer, and…he said he’d already set it up.”
“I hope it was good.” I wouldn’t have dared to eat the high-spiced Stakanaran food that Musario served. “Just don’t let his gratitude become a habit.”
“Oh no, sir.”
We turned down Mando, which ran northeast to southwest, as did most of the streets between South Middle and Quierca in Third District. I had to admit that the dwellings on both sides looked better than they had five years earlier. Now, none of the windows were boarded up, and most had shutters.
I could still smell hints of elveweed though, much as I’d tried to get the taudischefs to discourage it. The only thing that the three had agreed on was that children still in school shouldn’t be allowed to smoke it. It had taken a few beatings and the disappearance of two young dealers several years back-so I’d heard-to make that stick. I’d definitely turned a blind eye-or ear-to that rumor. I didn’t see much point in trying to find whoever had gotten rid of someone who wanted to turn schoolchildren into elvers. Besides, I never knew who the missing dealers were, or even where their bodies might be found. But now, as Horazt had pointed out, no one ever saw the dealers, only their runners.
From the alleyway on the right, I heard footsteps, and I turned quickly.
“Master Rhennthyl! Help! Help!” The woman was carrying a child wearing a stained and worn blue jersey and crudely sewn trousers. He looked to be about Diestrya’s age, with a thin and angular face, without any baby fat, but he might have been older, because the taudis-children tended to be smaller. The child was convulsing, but not vomiting or choking. His face was contorting in a way that reminded me of the dead elvers.
“He’s not choking! There’s nothing in his mouth…” She thrust the child at me.
I didn’t take him. Holding him wasn’t going to help the boy. “What did he eat?”
The woman looked at me, fear in her eyes.
“Did he chew on some elveweed?”
“He…he…”
“Yes or no?” I snapped.
“Maybe…I didn’t see.”
The child spasmed into another convulsion, so violently that his mother barely could hold him.
I’d imaged items and substances into people, with often deadly results, and I’d imaged items in and out of a cadaver, but I’d never tried to image something out of a living person. But unless I did something, the boy was going to die. He might anyway.
I took one deep breath, then concentrated, trying to recall exactly all that Master Draffyd had shown me, trying to visualize removing what ever was in his stomach, without touching the lining or anything else. The quick wave of dizziness that passed over me indicated that I’d done something, and I was almost afraid to look at the boy, but he was still shuddering. So I hadn’t killed him outright.
Even as I watched, the convulsions began to subside, but he continued to breathe. I reached out and touched his forehead. It was hot.
The mother looked to me, then down at the boy.
“I did what I could.”
We kept watching. Finally, he moaned. “Mama…Mama…”
She looked at me once again, her eyes wide.
“Don’t let him eat anything spicy. Just plain heavy bread for a day or two.”
She nodded, but her face was white, although tears oozed from the corners of her eyes.
When she left, cuddling her son, and murmuring to him, I stood there for a moment. I could only hope I hadn’t damaged him permanently in some way that wouldn’t show up until later.
Jaerdol and Zandyr just looked at me as I rejoined them.
“Sir? What did you do?”
“I tried to image some elveweed he ate out of his stomach. I hope it works.”
“He was about to die. He looks better now,” Jaerdol said.
“He might have gotten better anyway,” I pointed out.
The two looked at each other.
If the boy lived, there would be another story…and more problems. Either way, I needed to talk to Master Draffyd, the imager and doctor at the Collegium. If word got around Third District, who knew who else might come running, and for what. It was just another example of why Master Dichartyn and Maitre Poincaryt were always stressing the importance of doing things in a way that looked like you were doing something innocuous. What I really should have done was to have taken the boy, imaged out the elveweed fragments he’d chewed, probably because he wasn’t being fed enough, and then thumped him on the back and claimed that he’d just been choking.
But, again, I’d been caught short and hadn’t been able to think that quickly.
“You’d think that imagers can do anything.” I laughed. “We can’t.”
That brought dubious looks from both patrollers.
“Come on,” I said. “You have a round to cover, and I need you two to tell me what you’ve seen recently in each block.” I pointed to the second house ahead on the right. “What can you tell me about that one?” That was probably unfair, because I knew that the eldest boy was a quartermaster third in the Navy, because I’d gotten him to enlist before a conscription team drafted him, and that he sent a pay allotment home to his widowed mother. The younger brother was a bigger problem.
“She’s got one boy still at home,” said Zandyr, “and an aunt living with her. The boy’s a loose cannon. Horazt won’t even touch him…”
We continued on the round.
When I finally returned to the station, it was close to a quarter past second glass, and four patrollers were walking toward the duty desk from the holding cells.
“What happened?” I asked.
“A dray horse spooked and pulled a brick wagon into a spirit wagon,” offered Alsoran, who was following the four, “on South Middle just west of the Plaza.”
“Don’t tell me. In the mess, some of the taudis-kids tried to steal the spirits, and the two teamsters got into a fight, and then the avenue got clogged up, and the cutpurses showed up…”