Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(71)

“Not a good trade, by the way,” Keefe interrupted.

“It was, actually,” Mr. Forkle told him. “We’ve learned all we can from Gethen. Plus, the Council is not without their talents. Why not let them try their hand? Anything they learn we’ll be able to recover.”

“Okay, but my point,” Sophie said, getting back to her argument, “is that with Gethen gone, Exillium is our best chance of discovering more about the Psionipath. Someone has to remember something about him. Or if nothing else, we’ll learn about the Neutral Territories.”

Mr. Forkle rubbed his head, leaving red marks from pressing so hard. “All I can promise is that I will discuss the matter with the Collective.”

“That usually means ‘yes,’?” Physic said, making everyone jump as she swished back into the room. “He knows the Collective never rejects his ideas. Why else do you think we have these stupid code names?”

“Well, now we know one of his identities,” Keefe said.

“He told you he’s—”

“Sir Astin,” Mr. Forkle jumped in. “And nice try, Mr. Sencen. No one will be revealing any of my other identities, accidentally or otherwise. Physic will also not be revealing hers. Did you get the ingredient for Mr. Vacker?” he asked her.

Physic held up a palm-size white jar. “It wasn’t easy. My usual apothecary was closed, so I had to go to the Hekses’ unicorn preserve. Why didn’t you tell me the plague had spread to the Starkrial Valley?”

Mr. Forkle looked pale as he mumbled, “I wasn’t aware that it had.”

“Wait, isn’t that where the Lake of Blood is?” Sophie asked.

“It is,” Mr. Forkle said. “But it’s a large valley, and the Lake of Blood is on the other side. Still, I’d better check on Sior, Lur, and Mitya.”

He pulled his crystal from his cloak and turned to Physic. “You can handle things without me?”

“Don’t I always?” She offered Sophie her hand as Mr. Forkle leaped away. “Come on, let’s go finish healing your friend.”





THIRTY-THREE


PHYSIC’S GOOPY, POOPY salve—or as Keefe called it, the pooplosion!—did its job, erasing the last remains of the black spiderweb veins on Fitz’s chest. After that it only took another hour of dry heaving and fifteen other medicines before Physic pronounced Fitz “cured.”

“You’re not healed,” she warned Fitz. “You’re going to need another week of recovery for that. And you’ll need to drink a vile tea every morning.”

“Did you say ‘vile’?” Della asked.

“Oh yeah—it’s nasty stuff. But so is getting impaled by a giant bug.” She set a jar on the table filled with seven spiky red flowers. “Steep one hollowthistle into a cup of boiling water and make him down the whole thing in one gulp. Try not to throw it up,” she told Fitz. “And no getting out of this bed except for essential things.”

“So, like, a few rounds of tackle bramble?” Keefe asked.

“Very funny,” Physic said. “But seriously—no. Fitz will look worse before he gets better. Just know that’s part of the process. I promise he’ll be his old self by the seventh cup.”

“Can’t I just down all seven cups right now?” Fitz asked.

“Not unless you want your insides to liquefy.”

“Am I the only one who thinks that would be kind of cool?” Keefe asked, earning another laugh from Physic.

“I like your style, kid,” she told him. “Though I have a feeling I’m going to need to keep an eye on you.”

“You can try,” Keefe told her. “And dude, now that you’re done with the Great Vacker Hurlfest, we can tell you that Foster found out one of Forkle’s identities. Sir Astin.”

Della’s eyes widened the most. “He was my Mentor when I was a Level Three.”

“He was?” Sophie asked. “Do you think he was in the Black Swan back then?”

“I don’t know, it was a long time ago.” Della stared out the window, her mind in the past.

Fitz, Dex, and Biana meanwhile didn’t seem that impressed. They were surprised, of course. But crazy as the revelation was, it still felt like Mr. Forkle’s other identities had to be an even bigger mind blow.

Sophie jolted back to the present when Fitz yelped.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I was just trying to sit up.”

“Vertical is not your friend yet,” Physic told him. “Make horizontal your buddy for the next seven days.”

Fitz sighed, and winced from the sigh. “Can I at least practice Telepathy?”

“You might be up to it in a few days,” she told him. “But I doubt it. You need to rest. You came pretty close to dying.”

“I knew it,” Dex mumbled from the corner. Sophie hadn’t seen him this miserable since the Council had forced him to adjust her ability-restricting circlet. “Can I . . . um . . . talk to you for a sec?” he asked Fitz. “Alone?”

“Uh . . . sure,” Fitz said slowly.

“Come on,” Della said, herding everyone out. “Physic should check us, too.”

“Indeed I should,” Physic agreed.