Chapter 22
EMERE
“Emere, I am not a mortician!”
As Emere was about to lay a bloody Septima on one of the beds, Rakel grabbed a nearby blanket and covered it. Her widened eyes looked like those of a surprised rabbit, but that was the only part of her that seemed even remotely shocked. She quickly began examining the patient.
“She’s not dead. Just injured. You’ve seen me worse off than this.”
Rakel examined the crossbow bolts in Septima’s chest.
“Her condition is serious, Emere. She may not live.”
“I had to at least try to save her. If I left her behind, she definitely wouldn’t have lived.”
Quickly, Rakel moved to her cabinets and rummaged through them until she found two bottles that she brought back to Septima’s side. She handed him the brown bottle. “Wash your hands with this. Depending on how bad she is, you may have to help me.”
Putting her hand behind Septima’s neck and tilting her head back, Rakel poured the contents of the white bottle down Septima’s throat.
“What is that?” Emere asked, washing off the pungent slop he had slathered onto his hands with water from one of the buckets.
“Would you even know if I told you?” Rakel replied, her eyes still on the patient. “What happened? Not just bolts, but she has burns and a head wound too.”
“It’s a long story—”
Rakel interrupted him. “Keep it simple. Details later.”
“Fires in the alleys.” Emere knew enough to not distract her during surgery.
Cain had told him the Office of Truth would be there in two hours, but they were there in a quarter of that time. The stout man and Devadas had carried Lukan to safety, and Septima was guiding Emere through the labyrinth when she was shot.
Rakel’s eyes darted about Septima’s wounds before she clucked her tongue.
Then she tied up her hair and wrapped it with the white cloth hanging from her belt.
Meanwhile, Emere collapsed into one of the chairs by Rakel’s front door.
Even a person as small as Septima weighed much, especially when unconscious, and he hadn’t carried anything that heavy since Arland.
As he wiped away his sweat, the back of his hand came away with black ash. Rakel gestured to him.
“Help me move her to the table.”
Rakel already had her hands under Septima’s armpits, carefully avoiding her wounds. Emere grabbed her ankles. At Rakel’s nod, they hoisted Septima up to the table surface. With the two of them lifting, Septima was as light as a rag doll.
Emere watched Rakel tend to Septima. Rakel put on leather gloves, stripped Septima of her bloodied clothes, and looked closely again at her injuries.
She dipped a clean cloth into water that had been boiled and cooled, then carefully wiped Septima’s face and wounds with it.
Placing her ear on Septima’s chest, she checked her heartbeat and breathing.
There were three sharp surgical knives beside her, and five or six curved needles.
“How is she?”
“First, I need to take out the bolts. But there’s nothing you can help me with just yet, so be quiet and go sit back down.”
Emere did as he was told. The medicine Rakel had given Septima must have been a strong anesthetic, as the unconscious patient wasn’t even making pained groans, her stomach rising and falling with regularity as her breathing steadied.
Whenever Rakel turned to pick up a tool or a bottle of medicine, her blood-soaked apron flapped toward him.
Suddenly, Rakel stepped back and undid the cloth around her hair, wiping her sweat and Septima’s blood from her face.
“I did what I could for now. The rest is up to how lucky she is.”
“Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”
At this, she shot him a look of annoyance. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Counting on me to do what you want.”
Emere could only apologize. “I’m sorry.”
Rakel sighed. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap at you.
But I didn’t expect you here tonight, not like this.
” Rakel tossed the cloth into a basket by the bed.
“So, details now. What happened? I know there was a fire nearby since the streets are thronging with the fire watchers. Rumor has it that rebels from some provinces are responsible. Is that true?”
“No, it’s the Empire’s doing. The fire watchers are a distraction. The real business was done by legionaries from the Office of Truth.”
At the mention of the Office of Truth, Rakel glanced at a cupboard in the corner of the room.
It likely hid a small altar for the Ebrian god.
He had once heard that the Office of Truth arrested more Ebrians than any other provincials.
It seemed that even the Empire was having trouble killing a god that only existed in the mind, since even after a dozen decades of Imperial rule, Ebrians continued to make secret offerings to their god.
Rakel realized that her glance led Emere to look at the cupboard too, so she quickly turned to the patient.
“From the looks of her clothing, she’s not from that part of the city.”
“She’s from the Ministry of Intelligence. Before she was dismissed, at least.”
“You kept on going on about being unimportant, but look at you with your Ministry of Intelligence and your Office of Truth…” Rakel smirked. “But I’m glad you made it out alive. Carrying another person at that. Are you hurt at all?”
He shook his head. “We had some warning. Septima here was injured while we were running away.”
Were the stout man and Devadas safe? Emere thought of the tavern owner Lukan, motionless and expressionless throughout the attack, even while being carried on Devadas’s back.
Rakel frowned. “What are you going to do now?”
“I need you to watch over the patient for a while. I have to—”
“Absolutely not.” Rakel’s tone was so hostile that Emere flinched. “The last time you came to me for help, I did it for old times’ sake. But I’m not a woman you can order around whenever you need me. Besides, I’m an Ebrian. I have no wish to draw Truth eyes to my home. Take this woman and get out.”
“Rakel—”
“You were just like this back then. Doing whatever you wanted to do for ten years, leaving when it suited you. All for that precious ‘destiny’ of yours.”
Emere sighed. “Rakel, I am sorry. I want to make it up to you, for all I’ve—”
Rakel sprang to her feet, upsetting the tray of surgical tools next to her, which clattered to the floor. At the sound, Septima moaned and turned her head in her sleep. Rakel took a glance at her face before turning back to Emere.
“If you mean that you want us to get back together, I won’t say it hasn’t occurred to me to give this”—she pointed her finger at herself, then at Emere—“another chance. But you are like a moth. Always flying off to whatever shines the brightest, whether it’s finding out what the Star of Mersia was, fighting the Empire, or looking for the woman in your dreams. What could I possibly hope for from a man like you? ”
Emere was speechless. Rakel sat back down and said, in a calmer voice, “All over the world, there are Ebrians fighting for the Nameless God. I am sending information from the Capital to them. I—we have moles inside the Ministry of Intelligence, the Office of Truth, the Ministry of Provincial Affairs, even a few among the Senate functionaries. You can’t imagine the number of people I’ve saved in the past seven years.
” She sighed deeply. “My husband helped me manage the informants for years. But ever since he died in the Great Fire, I haven’t been able to do as much as I used to.
Every bit of information I squeeze out of them costs me, and it’s not enough on my surgeon’s money.
If you want me to help you by keeping this woman here, you must pay my price. ”
“… What is that?”
“Anything that I ask. Everything you have.”
Emere opened his mouth, but nodded without speaking. He owed her, not just for her recent help but for everything he had done, including the actions that led to the death of her husband.
“I still have feelings for you,” said Rakel.
“And I probably always will. But I don’t want you or your amends.
Not in exchange for caring for someone I do not even know.
I will take this Septima woman as my patient, in exchange for my price, until she recovers.
You can stay here as long as you like too, and leave whenever you want. ”
At her words, Emere’s heart ached. He knew she was breaking hers to say that, and there was nothing he could do but nod.
“I understand. I am sorry.”
“It’s fine. Because you will do and give anything I ask of you.”
Rakel wiped her tears and forced a smile. Emere hugged her gently. They had been apart for ten years and much had changed, but much had also stayed the same. Emere stood up.
“I’ll leave now. Please take care of Septima for me.”
Rakel held up her hand to stop him. “You’re not leaving, not when the streets are overrun with whoever it is pursuing you. Eat something. There’s leftover food in the pot over there, and bowls. I’m going to head upstairs and go to bed.”
“It makes no difference if I leave now or—”
“You can leave the dishes in the bucket.” And with that, Rakel went up the stairs.
Emere looked over at Septima, still unconscious, before he went to the pot and opened the lid. There was a bit of barley porridge left at the bottom. Not bothering to reheat it, he scraped it up with a ladle into a wooden bowl and slurped it straight from the bowl. He hadn’t eaten all day.
After he put the bowl in the bucket as he had been told, Emere climbed into one of the beds usually reserved for patients.
Lying sleepless, Emere thought about what Rakel had said.
Had he truly been like a moth, always moving on to whatever was the next brightest light?
He didn’t want that to be the story of his life.