Chapter Three: The Esparan Healer
In which Donal and Ian discuss the murder with the ship’s healer, and Ian ponders the peculiar personality of this Esparan cypher…
Ian let out the breath he’d sucked in. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“’Tis legendary,” Donal said, continuing to turn the stone in the shadowy lantern light. “’Tis what gave the first emperor his power, they say.”
“How so?”
Donal leaned back on his heels and took a deep breath. “D’ye know much about the history of the Eastern Ridge?”
“I know the empire was established a thousand years ago or more. And I know that the people split into two groups hundreds of years ago and that they’ve been fighting over territory ever since.”
“So you know the basics, but you haven’t a whisper of knowledge about the important things.” Donal tucked the sapphire into a large pocket and took the dead man’s shoulders again. “Come. Let’s get the body to the repha, and then we’ll take the stone to Captain Robbie and have a talk over all of this. Can you manage the lantern as well?”
Ian nodded and hooked one wrist through the lantern before picking up the dead man’s feet. He followed Donal as he navigated the ship’s narrow corridors and rooms until they reached the repha’s offices. They lay the body of the dead man on a table in the center of the room, and Ian lifted the lantern and looked around. Medical men are the same everywhere.
The room had the same cluttered organization of the much more generous offices of the palace repha back in The Citadel, the castle the Eiryan royal family called home. Dusty books lined one wall, and neatly labeled jars lined another. The repha had all manner of instruments displayed within easy reach of the table, and Ian wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to know what the instruments were for. Everything seemed to have its own space, even as full as the rooms were, and Ian reflected that perhaps medicine was a profession where items of necessity expanded to fill available space.
“I canna hazard a guess as to how he manages to move around in here,” Donal said.
Ian chuckled. “I was just pondering a similar thought.”
“It’s quite easy, once one realizes that there’s a system to it,” said a smooth voice behind them.
Donal and Ian turned to greet the young repha. Hadi had come aboard in Espara at the same time as Ian. He’d arrived on a fine horse with a single servant, presented a letter to Robbie, set up his quarters aboard the ship, and sent his servant home with his horse. Robbie said little about him except that he came highly recommended.
Ian had the impression that the soft-spoken, gentle repha felt out of place in his country of origin. In the few moments they had spoken between Espara and Tal’Amun, Ian had learned that Hadi grew up in a large, wealthy family, a fourth son who had no hope of inheriting property and no desire to serve the kirok. Overshadowed by his older brothers, Hadi found his refuge in books. In addition to his medical knowledge, he spoke Taurin fluently and dabbled in art and architecture.
At first, Ian thought he might find some camaraderie with Hadi, considering their similar family circumstances. But although Hadi was polite and accommodating, he had an aloof air that kept others at arm’s length. He rarely interacted with the crew, though he never spoke harshly to them, and he always ate alone, even when personally invited to the captain’s table.
Ian had asked the young quartermaster, Seamus, what kind of supplies Hadi requested, thinking that perhaps the man had some unusual proclivities that might show up in his medicines. Seamus felt some sense of obligation to Ian, the prince knew, because of Ian’s help in securing his position as quartermaster. However, when Ian looked over Hadi’s requisitions, there was nothing unusual about them. “He’s always so polite,” Seamus had said. “He just writes out what he wants on parchment and hands it to me with a word or two, and then he wishes me well and walks away.”
When they were in ports, Hadi often went into town with a book or two tucked under one arm, and he never returned until night or early morning, always under cover of darkness. Ian would have suspected him of all the vices common to seafaring men, but he never showed signs of drunkenness, and his comportment did not suggest a man deeply in debt or addicted to women. Ian supposed that Hadi was the sort of young man women might find attractive, but only if they noticed him. He was not the sort to draw attention to himself, and he was not so handsome as to attract every eye. He was, in short, something of a cypher.
Donal turned to Hadi. “I suppose you’ve heard about the altercation.”
Hadi inclined his head and stepped into the room. “I was informed of the incident shortly after I returned to the ship.” He reached for a knife as Ian and Donal stepped back, then gave them a mild smile. “I’m only going to cut his tunic away from the wound. Your highness, some light, if you would?” Ian lifted his lantern over the body as Hadi sliced open the shirt and bent toward the body. “Either his killer was very well-trained or very lucky,” he said, pointing. “The blade found its mark perfectly. See this?”
Ian leaned forward. “It just looks like a hole to me.”
Hadi shook his head. “It’s a perfectly placed hole—right between the fourth and fifth rib, likely angled just right to pierce through the lung all the way to the heart.” He looked up. “I will write a formal statement for the authorities. Do you have any idea what happened?”
Ian’s eyes shot toward Donal’s bulging pocket, but Donal gave him a curt signal. “Not yet,” he told Hadi. “Possibly just a robbery gone bad.”
Hadi nodded. “Very well. I’ll do a more thorough exam when the sun is up.” He inclined his head. “Good morning, gentlemen.”
Donal and Ian left the repha’s quarters. “Why didn’t you—” Ian started.
“Shh.” Donal cut him off with a gesture. He motioned toward the captain’s quarters. “The fewer people know about this, the less risk it brings to our ship and crew. Besides, there’s something odd about our new repha. I haven’t decided whether to trust him or no.”
Ian frowned. “He’s just a quiet academic.”
Donal shook his head. “There’s more than that. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Are you sure you’re not just letting Eiryan prejudices get in the way of your good sense?”
Donal snorted. “There’s more saltwater than blood in my veins at this point. I don’t give a fig for where a man is from. I care more about what he does.”
“What do you mean?”
Donal gestured to the office behind him. “You saw the instruments in there, all his jars, specimens.” He shuddered. “Men who practice such arts shouldn’t be trusted.”
They arrived at the captain’s door, and Donal knocked. “Come,” Robbie called. Donal opened the door, and Robbie motioned them in. He sat at his desk across from a Tal’Amuni man dressed in the uniform of the city guard. “You’re just in time,” Robbie said. “Our friend here needs a statement from you.”
The Tal’Amuni stood and inclined his head. “Gentlemen,” he said. “I understand you have taken the body of his highness to your repha?”
Ian startled. “His highness?”
The man nodded. “I fear this may be far more than a simple altercation. We have reason to believe that the man who died was a nephew of the king of Dal’Imur.”
If you like the story so far, remember to subscribe and share!