Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
“While you were showing off winning goals in the first half, the vitalians and I worked to save the king’s men.”
“I’d have noticed a bunch of vitalians running around spelling everyone.”
“Your poison was delivered in liquid form. The antidote you carried around too.”
He jerks his head to the spectators, half of whom are still holding their half-time drinks. He shakes his head. “It was all filtered through me, weighed to perfection with my inner scales, stacked and timed precisely. You’d never have enough vitalian power to concoct enough antidote. You might save a hundred, but never a thousand.”
“I met resistance at first. The vitalians of this kingdom are raised to look down on crude healing. They believe spells to be superior. I’ve had prejudices too.” I stare at my hands that, despite having no magic, were able to save a thousand people. I recall Olyn reminding me that magic isn’t always available or enough. “A broth will stretch a cure. Will reach ten times as many patients.”
Most vitalians had brought prepared ingredients, in case their first attempts failed and they needed to consume and start over. They weren’t convinced to make a broth with it, but when I told them about the gardenias, the false buttonweed, when I asked them why they became healers, one by one they relented and tipped their bottles into the cauldron borrowed from the cook.
While the nobles scored goals on the pitch, we filled barrels with sweetened antidote, and with the commander’s aid had redcloaks doling it out under the guise of a half-time top up.
Eparch Valerius snarls, at me, at all of us. “He wants you all dead. He’ll get everyone here eventually.”
Quin barks, “Take him away.” To Constable Michealios he says, “You’ll free all of my men; exonerate them, and Caelus Amuletos.”
Constable Michealios bows and hauls the eparch off the pitch.
Sparkles, who started weeping when the eparch showed his true colours, gets to her feet and runs past me with mumbled apologies. Eparchess Juliana and the commander bow to the king, thank him for his part saving the people—including Paxos, who upon waking vowed to bear witness to take the high duke and all his men down.
They have more to discuss, and after a glance at me, Quin requests they find a place to sit.
The spectators drift away in all directions, and soon only Nicostratus, Petros and I linger on the grass. Fiddling with the horn, Petros looks for dismissal from Nicostratus and starts to slink away.
I capture his sleeve and pull him around. “Not so fast.”
Nicostratus, whose sad eyes have been on me since I entered the pitch, raises a questioning brow.
“Explain yourself,” I tell Petros.
“Wh-what do you mean?”
I crane my neck and look up at him. “It’s understandable you do so much to help him.” I recall Petros carrying the drugged prince on his back all the way to his chambers. How he’d said he’d had much practice lifting with his brother. His very sick brother. “You’ve been stealing from the prince’s residence.”
“I . . . I . . .”
I murmur gently, “You shooed me away while taking stock of inventory. I thought you really wanted me to take a break, and perhaps you meant that too, but foremost you needed space to fudge the books. Am I right?”
His head sinks.
“You took off your supporter button when you pawned items. You used the money to pay for your brother’s care.”
Petros falls to his knees and bows low, head against the ground. “Forgive me, please. I took off the button because I didn’t want any rumours about the prince’s supporters pawning for money. I know it’s little, but your reputation is important. My brother is important too. I can’t see him die. I took things you barely used, that were otherwise gathering dust.” He bangs his head against the dirt. “I’ve done wrong.”
Nicostratus takes this all in and addresses me, “How did you find out?”
“The redcloaks playing like they’re asleep. Petros didn’t know about the poison, but he slipped relaxant into the drinks the players had. To rig the game in his favour and come out with hefty winnings. I didn’t know for certain. It was mostly a story forming from things I’ve seen, and he’s now confirmed it.”
Petros’s voice cracks as tears streak down his face. “I found a vitalian who thinks he could be cured, but he was asking more than I could possibly raise.” He bangs his head against the ground again. “He’s my everything. Do what you will with me, but please—”
Nicostratus reaches down to help him up, and dusts his sleeve of dirt. “I knew what you were doing.”
He did? He’d let his head aklo—
“Why didn’t you stop me?” Petros asks. “Cast me out?”
“I understand.” Nicostratus looks across at me and his words ripple through me until I stumble backwards, turn, and leave. “Brotherly love is more important than anything.”