AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“What do you need?” the apothecary asked. “More bandages? Well, I might just—”
He cut off as Kaladin slapped a medium-sized liquor bottle down on the table. It had a cracked top, but would still hold a cork. He pulled this free, revealing the milky white knobweed sap inside. He’d used the first of what they’d harvested to treat Leyten, Dabbid, and Hobber.
“What’s this?” the elderly apothecary asked, adjusting his spectacles and leaning down. “Offering me a drink? I don’t take the stuff these days. Unsettles the stomach, you know.”
“It’s not liquor. It’s knobweed sap. You said it was expensive. Well, how much will you give me for this?”
The apothecary blinked, then leaned in closer, giving the contents a whiff. “Where’d you get this?”
“I harvested it from the reeds growing outside of camp.”
The apothecary’s expression darkened. He shrugged. “Worthless, I’m afraid.”
“What?”
“The wild weeds aren’t potent enough.” The apothecary replaced the cork. A strong wind buffeted the building, blowing under the door, stirring the scents of the many powders and tonics he sold. “This is practically useless. I’ll give you two clearmarks for it, which is being generous. I’ll have to distill it, and will be lucky to get a couple of spoonfuls.”
Two marks! Kaladin thought with despair. After three days of work, three of us pushing ourselves, getting only a few hours of sleep each night? All for something worth only a couple days’ wage?
But no. The sap had worked on Leyten’s wound, making the rotspren flee and the infection retreat. Kaladin narrowed his eyes as the apothecary fished two marks out of his money pouch, setting them on the table. Like many spheres, these were flattened slightly on one side to keep them from rolling away.
“Actually,” the apothecary said, rubbing his chin. “I’ll give you three.” He took out one more mark. “Hate to see all of your effort go to waste.”
“Kaladin,” Syl said, studying the apothecary. “He’s nervous about something. I think he’s lying!”
“I know,” Kaladin said.
“What’s that?” the apothecary said. “Well, if you knew it was worthless, why did you spend so much effort on it?” He reached for the bottle.
Kaladin caught his hand. “We got two or more drops from each reed, you know.”
The apothecary frowned.
“Last time,” Kaladin said, “you told me I’d be lucky to get one drop per reed. You said that was why knobweed sap was so expensive. You said nothing about ‘wild’ plants being weaker.”
“Well, I didn’t think you’d go and try gathering them, and…” He trailed off as Kaladin locked eyes with him.
“The army doesn’t know, do they?” Kaladin asked. “They aren’t aware how valuable those plants outside are. You harvest them, you sell the sap, and you make a killing, since the military needs a lot of antiseptic.”
The old apothecary cursed, pulling his hand back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Kaladin took his jar. “And if I go to the healing tent and tell them where I got this?”
“They’d take it from you!” the man said urgently. “Don’t be a fool. You’ve a slave brand, boy. They’ll think you stole it.”
Kaladin moved to walk away.
“I’ll give a skymark,” the apothecary said. “That’s half what I’d charge the military for this much.”
Kaladin turned. “You charge them two skymarks for something that only takes a couple of days to gather?”
“It’s not just me,” the apothecary said, scowling. “Each of the apothecaries charges the same. We got together, decided on a fair price.”
“How is that a fair price?”
“We have to make a living here, in this Almighty-forsaken land! It costs us money to set up shop, to maintain ourselves, to hire guards.”
He fished in his pouch, pulling out a sphere that glowed deep blue. A sapphire sphere was worth about twenty-five times a diamond one. As Kaladin made one diamond mark a day, a skymark was worth as much as Kaladin made in half a month. Of course, a common darkeyed soldier earned five clearmarks a day, which would make this a week’s wages to them.
Once, this wouldn’t have seemed like much money to Kaladin. Now it was a fortune. Still, he hesitated. “I should expose you. Men die because of you.”
“No they don’t,” the apothecary said. “The highprinces have more than enough to pay this, considering what they make on the plateaus. We supply them with bottles of sap as often as they need them. All you’d do by exposing us is let monsters like Sadeas keep a few more spheres in their pockets!”
The apothecary was sweating. Kaladin was threatening to topple his entire business on the Shattered Plains. And so much money was being earned on the sap that this could grow very dangerous. Men killed to keep such secrets.
“Line my pocket or line the brightlords’,” Kaladin said. “I guess I can’t argue with that logic.” He set the bottle back on the counter. “I’ll take the deal, provided you throw in some more bandages.”
“Very well,” the apothecary said, relaxing. “But stay away from those reeds. I’m surprised you found any nearby that hadn’t already been harvested. My workers are having an increasingly difficult time.”
They don’t have a windspren guiding them, Kaladin thought. “Then why would you want to discourage me? I could get more of this for you.”
“Well, yes,” the apothecary said. “But—”
“It’s cheaper if you do it yourself,” Kaladin said, leaning down. “But this way you have a clean trail. I provide the sap, charging one skymark. If the lighteyes ever discover what the apothecaries have been doing, you can claim ignorance—all you know is that some bridgeman was selling you sap, and you resold it to the army at a reasonable markup.”
That seemed to appeal to the old man. “Well, perhaps I won’t ask too many questions about how you harvested this. Your business, young man. Your business indeed….” He shuffled to the back of his store, returning with a box of bandages. Kaladin accepted it and left the shop without a word.
“Aren’t you worried?” Syl said, floating up beside his head as he entered the afternoon sunlight. “If Gaz discovers what you’re doing, you could get into trouble.”
“What more could they do to me?” Kaladin asked. “I doubt they’d consider this a crime worth stringing me up for.”
Syl looked backward, forming into little more than a cloud with the faint suggestion of a female form. “I can’t decide if it’s dishonest or not.”
“It’s not dishonest; it’s business.” He grimaced. “Lavis grain is sold the same way. Grown by the farmers and sold at a pittance to merchants, who carry it to the cities and sell it to other merchants, who sell it to people for four or five times what it was originally bought for.”
“So why did it bother you?” Syl asked, frowning as they avoided a troop of soldiers, one of whom tossed the pit of a palafruit at Kaladin’s head. The soldiers laughed.
