Kingdom of Cages (43 page)

“There.” She grinned at him. “We’re already getting away. You’re starting to sound too much like your grandmother. Always
worrying.” But Farin did not return her smile.

Before either of them could say anything else, Aban rushed down the stairs.

“You!” He stabbed a finger at Chena. “You’re Elle’s apprentice, aren’t you? We need you up here.”

“She can’t,” said Farin. “If anybody from Peristeria sees her—”

Aban just made the piss-off sign. “This load’s from Canopy. We just stopped at Peristeria to pick up you and some cargo. They
won’t have gotten the news yet. Come on.”

“Chena, don’t.” Farin grabbed her good wrist. “We do not need you attracting any more attention right now.”

Chena looked at his hand on her wrist, and for the first time she felt no thrill at his touch, she just felt angry. He did
not understand. He thought she was still a child, a screw-up, someone who would not be there when she was needed. That was
not who she was anymore.

“Someone needs my help.” She caught up her pack in her bandaged hand, ignoring the way it sparked fresh pain, and walked away,
and he let her go.

“Her name’s Vonne Sesi,” said Aban, leading Chena up the stairs. “She’s got burrow ticks.”

The cabin was full to the brim. People had even hunkered down in the aisles beside the rowers, talking to each other in their
hard-edged, clipped-off southern accents. Despite that, Chena had no problem picking out the person Aban was talking about.
A woman sat cross-legged in the aisle, cradling her arm. Pain distorted her broad face, and her deep brown skin had a greenish
tinge to it. She had one loose sleeve rolled up and Chena caught a glimpse of red welts about the size of thumbnails with
black centers peppering her arm.

Chena winced in sympathy. Burrow ticks were common around Stem and Offshoot. There, they were tiny little parasites that made
you itch and could be taken care of with a strong spearmint and alcohol salve. In the tropics, however, they were a serious
disease. The woman’s arm was probably already infected, and she might have any of half a dozen bacterial ailments running
through her blood right now. At the very least, she was in serious pain.

Chena picked her way through the passengers until she reached Vonne. The woman tried to squeeze aside to let Chena by. When
Chena crouched down in front of her, Vonne’s pained eyes narrowed with suspicion.

Chena took Vonne’s good wrist and found the pulse. High and fluttering. That was not just from worry. She laid the back of
her hand against Vonne’s forehead and felt the slick warmth of her fever. The woman jerked her head away weakly.

Chena looked her right in the eyes. “I can help you,” said Chena. “I can take away the pain. I can ease the fever. I can get
those things out of your arm, and I can do it now.”

The woman just stared at her. All around them, conversation had ceased. All Chena could hear was the sound of many people
breathing and the splash of the oars in the water.

The woman covered her infected arm again. “I’m going to the doctor,” she said.

“The doctor will let you die,” said Chena flatly. “The doctor is from the hothouse, and the hothousers don’t care about people.
You know that. If they cared, there would be a doctor in your village, and they wouldn’t make what I do illegal. If you want
your family to have to mourn you, you tell me to go away now.” Chena paused to let that thought sink in, as she had seen Nan
Elle do a thousand times. “But if you want to live, let me help you.”

Vonne’s eyes searched Chena’s face. Chena wondered how long she had lived with the pain, and what she had tried to do for
herself. It was so stupid. The treatment was not easy, especially with the limited means they had, but it could be done. This
woman did not have to be ill. Even Chena could help her. All the woman had to do was say yes.

Vonne licked her lips. “Help me,” she whispered.

Chena unslung her pack. The other passengers shuffled backward so she had space to set it down. Chena untied the flap and
dug inside for her emergency supplies. Nan Elle had emphasized the importance of being able to practice their trade wherever
she went, so Chena had packed with care.

It was not illegal to have a roll of bandages with you, nor a knife and a pair of tweezers; it was the compounds that had
to be hidden. Chena pulled out a wax-sealed ceramic pot and broke the seal open. Inside was a serving of cold porridge.
My lunch,
she had been prepared to tell anyone who asked. She dumped the porridge into an empty sampling bag. She hadn’t been planning
on eating it anyway. The bottom of the pot was also coated with wax. Chena carefully pried up the wax disk with the blade
of the knife.

Underneath was a nasty, caustic salve that looked like bile and smelled about the same. It was made of salt and nettle, aloe
and honey, and the poison sacks from wasps. Ignoring the smell, Chena scooped up a gob of the stuff with her fingertips and
slapped it on Vonne’s arm.

“What is that? What are you doing?” She tried to jerk her wrist out of Chena’s grip.

Chena held her tightly. “I know, it looks awful. You should try making it. It’s going to numb your skin and deal with some
of the infection. It’s also going to smother the little bastards so we can get them out of you.” She caught Vonne’s gaze with
her own eyes, something Nan Elle was also insistent about. “The cure frequently looks as bad as the affliction,” Nan Elle
had told her. “Don’t let them dwell on it.”

“I can’t feel my arm,” Vonne whispered nervously.

Chena hoped she meant she couldn’t feel her skin. “Okay, it’s working.” Chena squeezed Vonne’s fingertips. “Can you feel that?”

“Yes.” Good, then it wasn’t working
too
well. The first time Nan Elle let Chena treat somebody with a salve she had made, the person broke out into a flaming case
of hives. Chena had been afraid to touch anyone else for a month.

“Now let’s see how we’re doing.” Chena picked up the tweezers.

The ticks should come out easily,
she heard Nan Elle’s voice whisper in the back of her mind.
Like seeds out of ripe fruit. If there is any resistance at all, they are not dead yet and will leave their heads in the wound
to get even more infected.

Chena worked to keep her face smooth and confident. It would do Vonne no good if she knew Chena had never done this before.
She sought out each of the black dots with the tips of her tweezers. The parasites came out easily, but left bloody pocks
behind. Vonne would be scarred, but she would recover, if she wasn’t too sick from whatever these things had left in her blood.

When she was certain she had gotten the last tick out, Chena wiped down Vonne’s arm with a dry cloth, and then again with
the alcohol she kept in her water bottle. She applied another salve, this one primarily aloe and honey, to soothe the pain
and keep infection out. Finally she wrapped the arm in bandages.

“Feel better?” Chena couldn’t quite keep the nervous tremor out of her voice.

“Yes.” Vonne drew her arm back against her body. She still looked scared, but her face was not as pinched as it had been.
“Thank you.”

“One other thing,” said Chena. She pushed down to the bottom of her pack and came up with a small bag of waxed canvas that
had been sewn completely shut. Technically, she had a license to carry this stuff, if it had been the tea she had registered
it as. She tore the seam with her knife and squeezed the contents out into a bottle that really did contain water and shook
it. The water turned greenish and flecked.

She handed the bottle to Vonne. “Drink that. It’ll help with your fever.” If anything had been worse to make than the tick
salve, it had been this stuff. Chena remembered the first time Nan Elle had ordered her to skim off the mold that was its
primary ingredient. It was one of the few times Chena had actively rebelled against her orders.

Vonne looked at the green water and her expression wrinkled into one of distaste. But she lifted the bottle to her mouth.

“I believe we’ve seen quite enough.” A hand swooped down and pulled the bottle from Vonne’s grasp.

Chena jerked backward, startled. She had almost forgotten there was an outside world, she had been so intent on Vonne. Now
she looked up and saw a man standing over her. She saw his white shirt and her heart jumped into her throat. He wasn’t a hothouser,
she realized, as she saw the shirt was handmade and the pants he had tucked into his worn canvas boots were brown. But he
had the blue armband on his shirt, and she knew he was the next best thing.

“It’s tea, Constable.” Chena didn’t try to get to her feet. It was better to look as vulnerable as possible when dealing with
the constables. “I’ve got a permit.” She gestured tentatively to her bag.
You idiot,
she thought.
You think they care for you any more than they care for the rest of us?
She felt Vonne’s gaze on her. The woman was hugging her arm to her belly as if she thought the constable would haul them
both off for evidence. She didn’t look sick anymore, she looked angry.

Great. I probably just saved your life, and now you’re pissed off at me.

“I’m sure you have all kinds of permits.” The constable stoppered the bottle. “You people usually do.”

“And I don’t think there’s anything illegal about bandages,” Chena went on, as if he hadn’t said anything.

The people around them were murmuring now, and Chena realized, with growing wonder, the sound was agreement.

“I think we will find that that salve contains several illegal items,” said the constable, ignoring the voices.

“What salve?” Chena spread her hands. “I didn’t see any salve.” She looked at Vonne. “Was there a salve?”

“No,” said Vonne steadily. “She washed my arm with water and wrapped a bandage around it. That’s all.”

Warmth spread through Chena. The hothousers couldn’t stop her. What made this idiot think he could?

The constable smirked. “I think you’ll find that not everyone in this boat is interested in losing their body rights if I
catch them lying to me.”

You’d do it too, wouldn’t you, you bastard?
Anger flushed Chena’s cheeks.
You’d turn a whole boatload of people over to them.

“Just sit down, Nathani,” shouted someone from the rear of the boat. “What did she do that hurt you?”

The rumbling on all sides grew louder, peppered with sniggers. Vonne hung her head to hide a smile. “He’s a little… selective,”
she murmured to Chena.

Nathani’s face tightened. “You think this is my idea?” the constable asked. “This is the law. The first one of us that doesn’t
cooperate gets hauled in for spare parts. You know how things are right now. They’re taking people on a whim.”

Taking them because you’re turning them in.
Chena stood. She moved as close to Nathani as she could get. They were almost of a height, and she had no trouble looking
him right in the eye.

She spoke in the lightest whisper. “They’ll be taken in only if you live long enough.”

“Threats, now?” His smile was condescending.

The smile Chena returned was pleasant. “You say you saw me use an illegal salve. Where do you think I got it?” She leaned
even closer. “Who do you think I am?”

“I think you’re a little girl who wants to play healer and you’re about to find there’s no room left for that game.”

“Is that all I am?” asked Chena. “Be sure. Be very, very sure.”

Slowly the condescending smile bled away from Nathani’s face. He knew. Everyone knew what a Pharmakeus could do to you, if
they wanted to. That old, grand, paranoid name could come in very handy.

“I think you want to sit down, Constable. I don’t think you want to wonder whether you will be dead in five seconds or five
years.”

His eyes searched her face. She let him stare as long as he chose. When she didn’t blink or back down, his broad face fell,
one muscle at a time.

Then the constable nodded. “I see,” he said, stepping backward. “I did make a mistake. I’m sorry.” He turned and picked his
way between the murmuring people and returned to his seat. Conversation picked up all around the cabin, as if nothing had
happened. Chena noticed that no one looked at her anymore, except Vonne.

Chena bent over to tie up her pack. “Get yourself down to Peristeria,” she whispered to Vonne as she straightened up again
and retrieved her bottle with the remains of the tea. “Ask for a woman named Savicka. She’ll be able to help if you need anything
else.” Vonne nodded and Chena read,
Thank you,
in her eyes.

Chena searched the benches once more for Nathani. He was sitting at the stern, staring out the window, and fingering the hollow
at his throat. She smiled and sat down, raising the bottle in his direction and swigging down the last of its contents.

She had the hothousers and their servants in their place now. They would never rule her, never make her do anything she didn’t
want to, ever again.

She tried not to notice that Farin didn’t emerge from belowdecks until after they had docked.

It took four days to get home from Peristeria. When Chena’s boots hit Offshoot’s dock, she felt her chest swell with pride.
Wait until Nan Elle heard what she did. Even Farin, with all his worries, had not been able to stay distant. He’d hugged her
when he left her at Stem and whispered in her ear that she had done well.

She felt like she could have floated all the way up to the house. As it was, she settled for running. By the time she threw
open the door, she was completely breathless, but still grinning.

“Nan? Teal?” she called as she passed through the workroom. “You are not going to believe what almost happened—” She pushed
through the door to the living room and froze.

Nan Elle sat alone in the room on a padded stool. Her wrinkled hands rested on her stick. Her face was grim, somewhere between
sorrow and anger. All Chena’s triumph drained out of her.

“What happened?” she croaked.

Nan Elle lifted her chin slowly, as if she were just making up her mind to speak. “Your sister’s gone.”