Seventeen
CHARIS INSISTED ON going with Tal to the medical bay the next morning. She needed information, and while Tal had proven to be an excellent spy, seers curse him, he didn’t read his opponents as quickly as she did. A sick Rakuuna, already defenseless, might be more prone to accidentally giving information away.
The medical bay was on the bottom of the ship, in the opposite corridor to the brig. It was damp and cold, the smell of rotting fish and mold heavy in the air. The main corridor was filled with buckets, piles of soiled rags, and trays with bowls of half-congealed fish soup gone cold. The bay itself was filled wall to wall with thin pallets of woven grass, most of which were occupied by Rakuuna who looked horrifyingly close to death.
Charis choked on the overpowering stench of rot as she followed Tal into the bay. Seven Rakuuna lay on pallets, their scales flaking into the air as they struggled to breathe, their bones jutting against their skin as though they might split the surface at any moment.
In the back corner, a male Rakuuna crouched beside the bed of a female. He rocked back and forth as one trembling hand smoothed the female’s hair. Bubbles of brackish-looking blood rose from her mouth.
“What kind of sickness is this?” Charis whispered, her skin crawling at the thought of catching what was killing these creatures.
“I don’t know.” Tal handed her a damp cloth and then took one as well. “But I’ve helped in here often and haven’t become ill. We should be all right.” He glanced at the satchel of moriarthy dust tied to her belt and looked away.
She swallowed as bile rose to scorch the back of her throat. The smell in the room was overwhelming, but if she was honest, her stomach’s distress had more to do with trying the poison on a creature who was already in so much pain than it did with the stench.
Charis stood rooted to the floor, breathing through her mouth, as Tal busied himself wiping the nearest patient clean. Another Rakuuna, this one looking young enough that Charis wondered if he was even fully grown, sat between two pallets, spooning swallows of fish soup into the patients’ mouths on either side of him. The patient in the corner gurgled, and the Rakuuna who was attending her let out a long, haunting cry that rose in pitch until Charis had to cover her ears to stop the pain.
What illness was this? Had they caught something from the raw fish they ate? From a sickness in Rullenvor that affected Rakuuna, but not humans?
And how fast did they become sick once they were exposed to it?
Maybe she didn’t need to figure out how to use the poison. Maybe all she needed was to find a way to expose the Rakuuna queen and her loyal soldiers to whatever was wrong with the creatures on this ship.
The patient shuddered violently once more and then went slack. The male Rakuuna curled over her body, his cries undulating through the air.
His pain struck the darkness within Charis, and her own grief echoed back. Her throat suddenly aching, her eyes burning with unshed tears, she forced herself to look away from the corner.
They weren’t her people. In fact, they were part of the reason her people were in pain. She couldn’t confuse the Rakuuna’s grief with her own. Not if she wanted to gain the information she needed.
Clutching her damp cloth with shaking fingers, she tried to block out the sound of his mourning as she followed Tal’s lead and crouched beside another Rakuuna, who appeared to be quite a bit younger than Charis.
A child soldier.
What kind of queen sent children into war?
She dabbed at the child’s forehead, wincing at the film of scales that clung to her cloth. The pouch at her side felt heavy as she contemplated the task in front of her.
Yes, this child soldier was part of the army that had hurt and enslaved Charis’s people, but how much choice did a child truly have? His queen was to blame, not him. The idea of experimenting on him with poison filled her with revulsion. Surely an adult Rakuuna would be easier to bear.
“What are you doing here?” A high, raspy voice came from behind Charis, and she turned from the child, grateful to have something else to focus on.
A Rakuuna with some kind of patch on his tunic stood in the doorway, a slim jar of green powder in one hand and a pitcher of water with a long wooden spoon resting inside in the other. His Caleran accent was much clearer than any of the other Rakuuna she’d met on board the ship.
“We’re helping,” Tal said quietly as he switched his dirty rag for a clean one and moved on to the next patient. As he passed Charis, he whispered, “He’s their physician.”
“Not her.” The physician set the pitcher and jar down on a small table and glared at Charis.
“Why?” Charis kept her voice calm. “It looks like you need the assistance.”
“No assistance from the one keeping us from getting medicine.” He bared his fangs at her, and she rose to her feet, her thoughts spinning.
“I’m not keeping you from getting medicine.”
“You are.” He whipped the wooden spoon out of the water pitcher and aimed it at her as though he was contemplating striking her with it.
She frowned. “Is that what you’re buying with the serpanicite you got from Rullenvor? Expensive medicine?”
He snatched up his supplies and stalked past her to the child on the pallet, bumping her hard enough that she would have hit the floor if Tal hadn’t leaped forward to steady her. Shaking off Tal’s supportive hand, she watched the physician closely.
“You could pay for it with other jewels. I’m sure King Alaric would—”
“Serpanicite!” The physician raised the bottle of green dust at her and then carefully measured out two pinches and dropped it into the water pitcher. As he stirred, the water became a murky green.
Charis was missing something. It seemed like he was saying the green dust was serpanicite, which would mean the rare jewel the Rakuuna were after was medicine to them, not currency for trade.
But why would they need so much medicine that they’d had to drain Rullenvor of its supplies and then turn their sights on Montevallo, with Calera as the gateway? Unless...
“How many are sick?” she asked.
The physician knelt at the side of a thin sailor whose scales were flaking off, leaving gaping sores behind. He murmured in their language, and she obediently opened her mouth to receive a swallow of the murky green liquid.
“How many?” Charis asked again.
The physician glared at her again as he moved to the next pallet. “Many. Old, young.” He gestured at those in the room. “Every ship is like this. Home is like this.”
“And serpanicite is your medicine?” She stepped back as he crouched beside the child’s pallet.
“You know that it is.” He gave the small Rakuuna a swallow of liquid.
“I didn’t know that until just now.” She glanced at Tal, and he shook his head. He hadn’t known, either.
“Many die.” The physician rose to his feet, towering over Charis. Anger filled his voice as he shoved the water pitcher in her face, shaking it slightly for good measure. “Almost out of serpanicite. Nothing stops the sickness without it. This makes you happy?”
“Of course not.” Why was he angry at her and not at his monster of a queen who was busy invading and crushing kingdoms instead of bartering for the medicine she needed to save her species?
Choosing her words with care, she said, “I can see that your people are dying. What I don’t understand is why, instead of helping them, your queen is off killing my people instead.”
“You had the chance to help us, and you refused!” The physician’s voice rose, scraping against Charis’s ears.
When had she had the chance to help Te’ash with this horrifying disease? The only time the Rakuuna had ever approached her was through Ambassador Shyrn of Rullenvor with their offer to help defeat Montevallo in exchange for an indefinite pass to set up camp in Calera with access to Tal’s kingdom.
Access to the serpanicite they needed.
She frowned. Why not just tell her the situation and ask for safe passage to Montevallo where they could bargain with King Alaric for what they needed?
Unless they didn’t have a way to pay for the gems.
Or unless there was still something Charis was missing—some crucial piece of information that would help her make sense of everything that had happened.
Facing the physician as he stooped to give medicine to another sick Rakuuna, she said softly, “If your queen had simply told me the situation, things would be different. I would have helped, had I known. She made the wrong decision, and it cost many Rakuuna their lives.”
Behind her, Tal sucked in a little breath and then stepped forward as if to angle himself between the physician and Charis. Whatever he intended, it was too late. The Rakuuna sank his claws into Charis’s shoulder and shook her until stars flickered at the edge of her vision.
“You will never come to this room again,” he snarled. “You’re lucky my queen wants to kill you herself. The blood of my family is on your hands.”
He shoved her, sending her stumbling into Tal, who quickly steadied her and then guided the two of them out of the sick bay.
Charis’s shoulder stung, and dizziness came in waves, but even though she hadn’t learned what the poison would do to open wounds, she had something just as valuable. She knew why the Rakuuna wanted serpanicite from Montevallo, and she knew that someone—clearly Lady Channing—must have told the queen not to be honest with Charis about their true situation—a lie by omission that had set in motion the chain of events leading to Calera’s ruin.
This would end either with Alaric paying the Rakuuna enough jewels to get them to leave or with Nalani’s armada destroying the monsters. Charis just needed to stay alive long enough to see this through.