Flamecaster (Shattered Realms, #1)(70)

Much of Ash’s assigned work consisted of cleanup, the harvesting and drying of plants, the chopping of roots and grinding of herbs with a mortar and pestle. Tasks he’d been doing for Taliesin since he was twelve. Sometimes he was allowed to pour off and label extractions after they were made. He suspected that Merrill didn’t want to give Ash another chance to demonstrate what he could do.

Once Hamon was released from the infirmary, however, there came a steady stream of servants, soldiers, and minor officials with illnesses and injuries, asking for “Adam Freeman.” Apparently now that the baker was on the loose, he was spreading the good news. Master Merrill’s annoyance was tempered by the fact that he had no interest in treating the riffraff.

Eventually, a patient was admitted with dysentery, and Ash was assigned to bathe the unfortunate and change his bed. Merrill seemed to delight in finding menial tasks to keep him busy. So, unless the king of Arden needed his toenails trimmed, they were unlikely to meet again.

Ash had retrieved his death-dealing formulary from the stables. He hid it carefully under a stone in the garden and protected it with a charm. He was at a loss for how to use it. He could tamper with the food down in the kitchens, but there was no guarantee any of it would make its way to his target. The king had a taster—those who shared the palace with him did not. Innocent people would die, the kitchen staff would pay the price, and the king would go on living.

The same applied to the herbs and medicinals in the healers’ formulary. Unless he could get his hands on an order specifically for the king, he was unlikely to succeed by that route. Taliesin always said that using poison in a crowd was like shooting a bolt into the sky, not knowing where it would land. Anyway, Merrill kept a hawk’s eye on Ash, waiting for him to make a misstep. Ash had no doubt that any problem would be laid directly at his door.

One morning about a fortnight after Ash had moved to the healers’ quarters, he was setting up and labeling the solvents and diluents using the compounding recipes while the two younger boys gathered materials from the storeroom in the rear. Master Merrill was away and the two apprentices were eager to tell him why.

“Did you hear what happened last night?” Harold said, dumping an armload of herbs onto the table. “With Lady Estelle and all?”

Ash shook his head, distracted. He was counting out measures of willow bark. “No. I didn’t hear.” Lady Estelle was the king’s current favorite, and Harold and Boyd were unrepentant gossips. Ash really didn’t care who was carrying the king’s chance-child.

“Last night the king all but climbed in bed with a viper.”

That caught Ash’s interest. “A viper? How could that happen?”

“From all I heard, it was a deathsting adder,” Harold went on. “They’re only big around as your little finger, but if one bites you, you’re a goner.”

“A snake was in his rooms?”

Harold shook his head. “Like I said. It was in the Lady Estelle’s suite.”

Ash abandoned all pretense of working. “Was the king bitten?” he asked with a spark of hope.

“I don’t think so. King Gerard, he ran out of the room, shouting for his guard. Five blackbirds went in and tore the bed apart looking for it, and finally killed it. Lady Estelle and all her ladies, they were hysterical.”

Ash sat down on the bed, heart thumping. “How do you know all this?”

“Master Merrill took me with him, to help carry. He thought he’d need help, what with five women all carrying on.” Harold was beside himself with delight at being the bearer of such important news, while Boyd looked glum at being left out.

“Master Merrill is treating the king?” Ha! No danger of a cure there.

Harold shook his head, as if Ash were a little thick. “Nah. I told you, the king—it’s like he don’t believe in healers. I mean the ladies. They was in a frenzy, and we had no lady’s tonic made up, so we give ’em enough brandy to put a sapper on his back. Then the King’s Guard, they come in, and they have at Lady Estelle and the ladies, asking ’em all kinds of questions. Only they wasn’t making much sense by this time, and the Guard, they want us to sober ’em up again.” Harold lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “See, they’re thinking the snake was meant for the king.”

“Who would want to hurt the king?” Ash might have sounded a little sarcastic, but it went right by Harold and Boyd. “Do they have any suspects?”

“Well, I don’t guess they’d tell Harold if they did,” Boyd broke in, eager to participate.

“Well, after the guards left, Lady Estelle and her ladies were all in a panic, because it seemed like the blackbirds thought maybe they was in on it.”

“Where was the king all this time?”

“He went back to his suite, far as I know.”

Just then, they heard a footstep in the hallway. Boyd and Harold hurried to look busy, thinking maybe it was Master Merrill. But it was Marc DeJardin.

“Freeman, get your kit and come with me. The king has asked for you.”

Ash tried to read Marc’s face but got nothing. “He asked for me specifically?”

The mage nodded.

Was it possible the king had been bitten after all? With mingled apprehension and anticipation, Ash set his work aside and washed his hands. He retrieved his kit from under his bed. “Wait here,” he said. “I need to get something from the garden. Just in case I need it.”