Heirs of the Enemy (47 page)

“The ogre gold will be used by Lord Zachary, but Sheri would do well posing as his wife. Do you have any problems with that?”

“None,” answered Wylan, “but why limit its use?”

“I am willing to use fake gold to achieve our objectives, but I don’t want to flood the entire economy with it. When the war is over, it will be revealed that some gold is fake. The holders of the fake gold will lose its value, and I hope that it is limited to the wealthy who have gotten rich off the backs of the poor. If we limit the ogre gold to high-value coins such as this one, there will be little chance of the common man getting hurt. If any of us need gold for any reason, we can see Zack about it. He will be in charge of our treasury.”

“That sounds workable to me,” agreed Wylan. “Shall I take the coin back to Tagaret?”

“And get Sheri.” Garth nodded. “I will arrange for unicorns and fairies for you while you are gone.”

“I will draw up a map of Bloodwood,” offered Sidney. “You will have no trouble finding the monastery.”

Sigfrid frowned with concern as he stared at Prince Harold of Ertak. The young man’s body showed signs of improvement, the angry red blotches on his skin slowly fading away, but the prince’s veins were still clearly visible, and they throbbed irregularly.

“Zalaharic, stop!” the Royal Sorcerer of Korocca said with alarm in his voice. “Something is not right.”

The elven mage from Elderal removed his hands from the prince’s body and stepped back a pace. A shiver of uneasiness shot through Sigfrid as he looked at the elf’s face. Zalaharic’s eyes were rolled up in his head leaving solid white orbs in their place. The elf closed his eyes and sighed with exhaustion.

“What is the matter?” Zalaharic asked wearily.

“His heart is not beating regularly,” answered Sigfrid. “I will not pretend to understand what you are doing, but your magic is stressing the patient even more than yourself. I beg you to stop and rest for a bit.”

Zalaharic nodded with understanding. He moved his hand towards the patient, his long slender fingers gently feeling the veins on the prince’s temple. Sigfrid was afraid that the elven mage was resuming the treatment, but he noticed that Zalaharic’s eyes had returned to normal. He looked on with curiosity.

“What exactly were you doing to him?”

“It is hard for me to explain,” Zalaharic answered softly. “Like much of what I do, it is driven by feelings rather than spells learned from a book. There is a wasting disease within the prince’s body. I went inside to battle it.”

“You went inside?” echoed Sigfrid. “How do you mean?”

Zalaharic moved away from the patient and slumped into a chair. “Have you never tried to will yourself to another place?”

Sigfrid’s brow creased with a lack of understanding. “Do you mean like teleportation? I thought such things were the tales of shysters and hustlers.”

“Such deceptive people do use tales of teleportation to steal gold from their victims, but that does not mean that such magics do not exist. In any event, that is not what I was talking about. Each person has an aura about himself, meaning his existence extends beyond his physical body. In most cases, the aura is insignificant. It might allow a person to feel the presence of something close, or realize the proximity of the people around him.”

“I think I know what you are referring to,” Sigfrid replied, suddenly becoming very interested in where the conversation was leading.

“The study of magic usually heightens the senses in this aura, but most magicians tend to ignore it or they attribute it to an increased feeling of awareness and leave it at that. The truth is, it is a valid extension of yourself, and it can be used in many ways. What I have done is to allow my aura to pierce the prince’s. In this way I can get inside the prince and examine what is ailing him.”

“And what have you found?”

“There is a poison within his body,” answered the elf.

“He has been poisoned?”

“No.” Zalaharic shook his head. “I am not suggesting that someone is trying to kill him. I think the disease that is attacking his body is creating poisons to spread itself. I can use my aura to battle it, as you can tell by the improving complexion of the prince’s skin, but the disease is widespread, and it is resistant to leaving its host.”

“His blood is tainted then?”

“Without a doubt.” The elf sighed and moved away from the prince’s body. “Some of the village healers in Alcea use bloodletting to purge the blood of poisons. It is not a magical process, but I have seen more than one of them have success.”

“I have seen the same here in Korocca,” conceded Sigfrid, “but the prince is too weak for such a process. Already his heart is racing to move blood through his body, and you have just pointed out the reason why. If his blood is tainted, it would become less efficient in purging the poisons from the rest of his body. Bloodletting is too dangerous a risk.”

Zalaharic nodded silently. He slumped into a chair and stared at the bed with unfocused eyes. After a few moments of silence, he picked up a writing tablet from the tablet and started drawing. Sigfrid walked over to the elf and stared at the paper. He gazed at the drawing of leaves and frowned in confusion. Suddenly, Zalaharic became alert and sat upright with a smile on his lips.

“Kioji! Have someone bring up some leeches and a fair supply of kioji.”

“Is that the plant you just drew?” asked Sigfrid. “I have never heard of it.”

“It is.” Zalaharic nodded. “When mixed into a broth the herb will provide an instant energy boost, and it also restores depleted blood. If we administer it to the prince while bloodletting, I think we may be able to purge his system without weakening him.”

“Are you sure?” asked Sigfrid. “We can’t afford to let him die.”

“I will pierce his aura while we are doing this,” promised the elf. “Together we will fight this disease.”

Sigfrid nodded and took the paper from the elf’s hands. He hurried out of the room and ran to the closest stairwell. There was a soldier posted to each stairwell with instructions to face away from the corridor and admit no one other than those on the king’s list. Sigfrid came up behind the sentry and handed the paper to him.

“That is a drawing of a kioji plant. I want as much of it as we can find, and I want a healthy supply of leeches sent up. See to it quickly.”

The Royal Sorcerer turned and headed back towards the suite holding Prince Harold. The soldier stared at the drawing and shrugged. He had no idea where to start looking for such a plant, so he hurried down the stairs and knocked on the door of Baron Stikman. The baron called for him to enter, and the sentry carried the paper to the baron’s desk. The baron put down the book he had been reading and picked up the paper.

“The Royal Sorcerer requests as much of that plant as we can find and a lot of leeches as well. What should I do?”

“What plant is this?” asked the baron as he stared at the drawing.

“He called it kioji. I have never heard of it.”

Baron Stikman’s eyebrows rose as his eyes flicked from the paper to the book he had been reading. He put the paper down and picked up the book. Flipping back pages, he found the section he had read earlier. He smiled as he nodded.

“What are you reading, Baron?” asked the soldier.

“A story,” the baron murmured distractedly. “This section tells the tale of a battle where a woman’s arm was severed from her body by a goblin’s axe. A young mage reattached the arm, but she was then too exhausted to move. A warrior escorting the women made a broth with an herb called kioji. Supposedly it provided a rush of energy and promoted restoration of depleted blood. I wonder if Sigfrid has had an accident.”

“He appeared healthy to me,” stated the soldier. “Should I inquire?”

“No,” the baron said quickly as he snapped out of his distraction. “Return to your post. I will handle this.”

The soldier nodded and withdrew from the office. Baron Stikman closed the Chronicles of the Sword of Heavens, placed it on his desk, and picked up the drawing as he rose from his chair. As he headed down the stairs, he thought about the book he had been reading. The story had been amazing so far, and that had made him a bit suspicious about the truth of it, but the request for kioji was making him reevaluate that skepticism. He knew that an elven healer from Alcea was helping Sigfrid with Prince Harold, and it was undoubtedly the elf who had requested the herb, but that very request for a plant unknown to him lent credence to the story. When he had read the passage about Tanya reattaching Jenneva’s arm, he thought it was obviously a fairy tale, and yet that same herb was now being requested for a prince who was close to dying. Obviously, someone thought the herb held great promise for its medicinal powers.

When the baron reached the main level of the castle, he halted, unsure of whom to ask for help. His first choice would have been Sigfrid, but it was the Royal Sorcerer who was requesting the plant. With nowhere else to turn, the baron continued downward to the kitchens. When he reached the kitchens, he called for everyone’s attention. He held up the paper and explained that he needed a large supply of the plant. He also requested the leeches as he pinned the drawing to a cabinet. With that out of the way, the baron headed upstairs to see what the healers were up to.

The head of the kitchen staff started asking everyone what they knew about the plant and where to find it, but no one was familiar with it. Slowly, the kitchen staff drifted back to their duties. The head of the staff ordered a runner to find the leeches and send them to Baron Stikman. A short while later, a young blond woman strode cheerily into the kitchens. Many of the staff welcomed her with friendly smiles, and one of them pulled a stool over to a small counter.

“Missed the midday meal again, Miss?” the old maid asked.

“I am afraid that I have,” smiled the young woman. “I guess I get too deep into my books at times and forget to eat.”

“Don’t you worry none, Miss. I’ll get you a hot bowl of soup and some bread. You just sit down and relax before you faint from weakness.”

“It certainly isn’t all that bad,” chuckled the woman, “but I would appreciate some food.”

“I am sure no one would mind if we set a place for you in one of the dining rooms,” the kitchen maid said as she brought over a bowl and set it down on the counter. “A young lady like you shouldn’t have to eat in the kitchens.”

“I don’t mind,” smiled the young woman. “I often eat in the kitchens back home. It is certainly preferable to eating alone in an empty dining room. I promise not to get in anyone’s way.”

“Miss Bonnay is never in the way in this kitchen,” stated the head of the staff as she entered the room. “You give her whatever she wants,” she said to the kitchen maid. “I don’t want her going back home and telling Baron Ohmson that we starved his daughter while she was visiting Herinak.”

“I would never say such a thing,” smiled Bonnay. “Everyone here has been wonderful to me. It feels every bit like home to me.”

The kitchen maid brought over half a loaf of fresh bread and set it on the counter. Bonnay nodded her appreciation as she ate the soup. The head of the staff noticed something wrong on the other side of the kitchen, and she stormed over to correct the problem. Bonnay paid no attention as she sat thinking about her morning studies. She was thankful for the chance to study in Herinak, even it was only for a short while. Any one of the libraries in Herinak Castle towered over everything back home, and there were several libraries here to choose from. As the young woman ate her soup, her wandering eyes landed on the drawing of the kioji plant.

“Have you ever seen such a thing?” asked the head of staff from behind the young woman. “I think the artist might have been deep into his ale. There is no such plant.”

Startled by the unexpected voice, Bonnay turned towards the head of staff. “Oh, but there is. It grows wild back in Zarocca. It is called kioji, but why do you have a drawing of it? It is not used in our kitchens.”

“You know of it?” the older woman asked with surprise. “I am not sure what it is for, but Baron Stikman asked us to find a lot of it. I wouldn’t know the first place to look for it. Besides, the snow outside the walls is several feet deep. It is not a time for harvesting plants.”

“It is medicinal,” replied Bonnay. “I am not sure what the healers use it for, but I see their helpers gathering it when they find it. Are there no healers in Herinak?”

“The Royal Sorcerer is known throughout the land, but if he had any, I can’t imagine why the baron would come to me. There are other healers in the city proper, but the best of the lot picked up and left the city a while ago. Maybe I should try one of the others. It will have to wait until tomorrow, though. We are already starting preparations for the evening meal, and the shops will be closed after that.”

“I could go,” volunteered Bonnay. “I could use a break from studies anyway.”

* * * *

Baron Stikman stood between the two healers, staring at the unconscious Prince Harold and shaking his head.

“He still looks more dead than alive,” stated the baron. “Why are you keeping him asleep?”

“Prince Harold might get too emotional when he wakes up,” answered Sigfrid. “Such emotions will only make the healing more difficult. It is best if he remains asleep. The fairies take turns casting their spells.”

“Where is the kioji?” Zalaharic asked with uncharacteristic impatience. “If we don’t start acting soon, your description of Prince Harold’s condition will become reality.”

“I have the whole kitchen staff looking for it,” answered Baron Stikman.

“The kitchen staff?” Zalaharic echoed with disbelief. “Kioji is a medicinal herb. The cooks will have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Perhaps I should go personally,” Sigfrid said. “I thought the soldier would understand that I was asking for healing supplies.”

“That will not be necessary,” frowned the baron. “I will get you the kioji. Stay and do what you can for the prince.”

The baron spun towards the door and hurried out of the room. He walked to the stairwell and halted next to the guard.