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A twinge of sympathy resonates through my gut. That kind of skin condition would only be exacerbated working in conditions like this.
The words spill out before I’ve really thought them through. “You know, there’s a technique that’s gone out of fashion for treating painful dryness of the skin. It was common in the time before the Darium invasion. You boil some yimmerbush leaves and bark, which isn’t hard to find, and let them steep in the hot water until it cools into a gel. Spread that salve on the spot twice a day, and it might start to clear up.”
Jevam blinks at me. “Really? I never heard of that before.”
I shrug. “Like I said, it’s gone out of fashion. But pre-Darium history is my specialty.”
And when I first arrived at the college, I was particularly interested in every possible cure for potentially healing one’s skin.
The man looks down at his wrist and then offers me a smile that’s almost shy. “There’s a big yimmerbush that grows near my house. I’ll have to try that. Thank you.”
I find myself smiling back. “I hope it helps.”
Jevam pauses and then leans in, his voice dropping. “I don’t know how it’d helpyoumuch. But the client I mentioned—we’ve been bringing clay to them for a couple of years. Lately it’s been twice a week. The crazy thing is, they have us take the wagon to a spot about an hour from here, where there’s nothing around, pick up the wagon we brought last time that’s empty now, and leave the full one. I have no idea where they take it from there.”
A shiver runs down my spine. “That is awfully odd. And the manager agreed to that arrangement?”
He grimaces. “They got some special deal for ‘discretion.’ That’s what I heard, anyway. Apparently the guy who came to negotiate it showed the king’s seal, and Nomar felt he had to go along with royal authority.”
The shiver deepens into a full body chill. I resist the urge to hug myself, releasing a rough laugh as if I merely find the story amusing.
Someone made the arrangements for these secret, escalating shipments of clay using the king’s seal.
Someone among the scourge sorcerers was able to gain enough access to the palace to steal that emblem. And if they could do that… who knows what other havoc they might wreak right within the royal family’s home?
Thirty-Four
Ivy
When I slip into the dining hall late in the evening, it’s nearly empty, as I was counting on.
I wasn’t counting on my employer being one of the few figures lingering around the tables.
As Stavros saunters over to intercept me on my way to the counters, he arches his eyebrow. “Didn’t you get your fill during our dinner earlier? I seem to recall you shoveling quite a healthy portion into your mouth.”
The dry teasing somehow sets me more off-balance than any other attitude I’ve gotten from him in recent weeks. I know how to brace myself against his hostility, and I can accept his contrition and his aggressive protectiveness even if I find both a little baffling.
This… This feels like the old Stavros. The banter that started to take on a hint of affection rather than criticism in the last few days before the battle in the All-Giver’s Tower exposed my magic.
I don’t see how we could ever really go back to the way things were. But hearing the warmth in his drawl makes my pulse flutter no matter how much it shouldn’t.
I decide it’s safest not to look at his stunningly chiseled face directly. Instead, I focus on the last scattered appetizers from the dinner spread.
“You’reback here too,” I point out as I pluck up a couple of delicate pastries, a spiced egg, and a half-roll topped with frothy cheese. “I don’t recall your plate being particularly sparse before you polished off the meal.”
“I’m not here to eat. I had a student ask if we could discuss her progress while she had her own late dinner.”
Ah, that’d probably be the brawny woman I passed on my way in, who marched out looking like she was ready to conquer an invading army all on her own. I guess Stavros gave her a good pep talk.
I add one more tidbit to my plate. “I’m not going to eat either. These are for something else. I had an idea.”
Stavros folds his arms over his chest. “Now I’m intrigued.”
I cast my gaze past him to our few other schoolmates who are taking their evening meal late. This isn’t the place to discuss my ideas about tackling the scourge sorcerers in any detail.
“I’ll fill you in if it gets me anywhere useful,” I tell him. “I promise it doesn’t involve anything death-defying. Now if you’ll excuse me…”
I bob in a curtsey that’s purposefully mocking, because we are supposed to be at odds as far as the rest of the school is aware.
