Page 2 of Wicked Thieves
The proof of a price paid, all for the sake of power that would not come.
On the table, Mihai’s eyes were nothing more than two slits, irises a milky white, as he stared up at the ceiling, or perhaps—more than likely—he saw nothing at all. Anelize observed that the blacksmith’s face held dark shades of blue and black that had taken over his complexion. The frostbite had invaded nearly all of his body. Had it not been for the way his chest rose and fell, she would have thought him succumbing to the afterlife. He would, but not today. The malady would claim him soon enough.
Glancing down at the stitching she’d left upon his upturned hand, she eyed the intricate cut that ran from the length of his middle finger to the base of his palm. Lines intersecting and interconnecting in swirling patterns. All of them wrong. Unnecessary even.
A knock sounded at the door, interrupting her thoughts.
“Come in.”
The door eased open, and Enid peered into the room. Her gaze lingered for half a second on the blood coating her sister’s hands before quickly focusing her attention on Anelize’s face. The youngest of the Yarrow sisters hadn’t been entirely comfortable being near patients, ill or not. Enid never took an interest in learning about herbalism or the study of medicine. Not that Anelize had minded. She’d much rather spare Enid the burden of witnessing such horrific sights like the one before her. In their father’s absence, she’d been doing it all of fifteen years now to change her mind.
“Yes, Enid?”
“Magda requested you finish here quickly. Old man Avos’s wife says he won’t be leaving his home today due to the cold,and his bones are aching terribly. I tried to tell her you weren’t finished here, but sheinsistedthat you make haste,”Enid said softly, though it wasn’t hard to detect the irritation laced between her words.
The mere mention of their aunt made her grit her teeth, but she chose her words carefully, fully aware of the boy watching them.
“Yes, I’m aware of his condition.”
Enid gave her a sad, apologetic smile. Anelize knew that it was hardly her fault, she was merely the messenger to their aunt’s many demands. Mainly because she knew that the only person she’d deem to grace with an answer would be Enid.
Anelize said, “I’ll see that it gets done. Don’t worry.”
With a nod, Enid left the room but not before glancing at the teary-eyed boy sitting on the chair. A ghost of a shadow passed over her face before she slipped out of the door, silently closing it behind her.
“Is there truly nothing you can do for him?” the boy asked, his voice wavering. An inkling of hope spilling through his words. Words that weighed heavily within the room. As they so often did when the inevitable question was asked.
After a moment of silence stretched between them, Anelize finally said, “Nothing beyond what I’ve already done.” She could not make false promises to the boy any more than she could make them to herself, as she once had in the past. Fooling herself into believing that a few simple remedies could solve the unsolvable. At least, beyond where her talents laid.
That had been a long time ago and she’d been nothing more than a child herself back then, still capable of feeding into the absurdity of dreams. Hope. Now she knew better.Therefore, she would not encourage such foolishness by lacing her words with delicacy.
Remedies and stitches were nothing to the inner workings of magic and the corruption it sowed after all.
The boy hadn’t said another word as she finished tending to his father. When all was said and done, Anelize rose from her perch upon the stool. She made quick work of washing her hands in the porcelain basin set atop the table while the boy wandered over to his father, watching him with sorrowful eyes.
Before she left the room, she granted him one last piece of advice. The only one that could not only help the man laying upon the table but also provide an ounce of peace to the boy. It was the only thing she could do.
“Best you can do is make him comfortable until the end.” Until he withered and disappeared into the darkness, as they all do. Leaving only hollow shells behind to haunt the very streets they walk.
2
The start of a new day was often reserved for the dead in the impoverished district.
It seemed as if even the crisp morning air that nipped at Anelize’s cheeks knew it as well, carrying nothing but frigid whispers in the wind and the distant wails of those who discovered they’d lost another soul to the malady. Or the sharp fangs of winter sinking into the flesh of those who never sought shelter in time.
She walked the streets of the port overflowing with folk already having poured out of their homes and into the city. The sound of her footsteps was softened by the thick layers of snow that gathered overnight. Shades of periwinkle and thulian kissed the skies as dawn arrived, the silent greeting of the sun that would soon diminish into a dull white once the graying clouds spread. Venturing onto the streets in the middle of Elvir’s sharpest, most unforgiving, winter was certainly not for the weak, no matter how hardened its people had become, how lacking in life they were with their tired eyes and malnourished faces that walked past her. The mistrust that poured off all of them in waves that she’d grown accustomed to seeing over the past twenty years.
Beggars who were ignored by passersby sat along the walls of buildings, wrapped in ratty cloaks, their tin cups barren of a singleruen. Orphans ran along the streets to pester the menand women who passed by them, asking for money in their sweet, desperate voices like a flock of birds chittering away. Begging for an ounce of food that could be spared. Anything to survive another day.
They would be given none. Anelize knew exactly what it meant to grow hungry as a child, the hollow ache that started in her stomach that, at times, she still felt years later. A maddening cycle that felt as though it would never end. The juxtaposition between the orphans around her and the dying city they found themselves in was not lost on her.
Eventually, the wails of a woman grew louder as Anelize reached the cusp of a group of half-timbered homes tightly situated together, practically built on top of each other and slightly slanting as if at any moment they would crumble. A group of people all dressed in ebony threads walked down the street in a small procession. A woman with tears streaming down her cheeks, her face twisted in agony as she clutched what looked to be a man’s bloodied coat, was guided by two other women standing on either side of her. Their faces covered by black lace veils. A sign of mourning to all who passed as they made their way down the main road toward the Old Church seated atop the meandering hills. Anelize came to a stop, watching as they walked past, their loss felt as surely as the chill in the air.
When the malady took root, if the victim was fortunate, it would not steal them away until well into a fortnight. Anelize had deduced over her keen studies of the ailment that the average victim could survive for that long if they were well taken care of by their families. If they were fortunate enough to have them at all. Regardless, once the wandering commenced, there was little anyone could do. Less so when the victimsventured into the forest. Lost to the impenetrable haze lurking amongst the trees. When that occurred, the ones who remained to mourn the loss often had nothing to bury, nothing to bid their farewells. Only the memory of decay and rot, and hollow eyes.
When the barking commands of the Watchmen filtered from another street, she turned the opposite direction while the rest of the onlookers quickly dispersed. She kept to the docks, staying away from the trouble that followed wherever the king’s men went, questioning any they suspected of treason, the slightest sight of wicked insurrection.
Anelize had no time for such useless interruptions when she already had a full day laid out before her. Yarrow’s Apothecary & Remedies being the only source of medical treatment made available for the impoverished port district meant Anelize had very little time to do much of anything else.
