Hêalic E-Book

Natalie J. Case

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Thána, Xen, and Daria find themselves in a world where witches are killed by hanging, and both a virulent plague and a serial killer eerily similar to Jack The Ripper are hunting the populace.

They have no idea how to get back to Meerat, let alone Spítia. Complicating matters, Thána is suffering withdrawal from the xýpna powder and her powers are depleted, leaving her vulnerable. And if that's not enough, Katyk has come through the first portal with them, but not the second, and Thána feels like she’s being hunted.

After the serial killer takes an interest in Thána, every move she makes might be her last. Can she find their way back to the portal before she ends up dead?

Leseprobe

HÊALIC

THE BLOOD WITCH SAGA

BOOK 3

NATALIE J. CASE

CONTENTS

1. Gavelscore

2. Settling In

3. Faking It

4. Withdrawal

5. Plague

6. Winging It

7. Faith

8. Domestication

9. Murder

10. Is There a Doctor in the House?

11. Witch Doctor

12. Called Out

13. Katyk

14. X Marks the Spot

15. Questioning

16. Decisions

17. Trial by Fire

18. Anne

19. Judgement

20. Hêalic

21. Healing

22. Exhaustion

23. Purpose

24. On The Road Again

25. Alnescore

26. The Queen

27. Dedication

28. Nightmare

29. Out of the City

30. Bloody

31. Sneaking Out

32. Portal Jumping

33. Coming Home

Epilogue

Glossary of Terms

About the Author

Copyright (C) 2022 Natalie J. Case

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Edited by Tyler Colins

Cover art by Lordan June Pinote

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

For my father

CHAPTER1

GAVELSCORE

My first taste of coffee in more than a month was a heaven that belied the supposed hell we had managed to find ourselves in. At least my mouth believed it was coffee. It looked, smelled, and tasted like coffee, with a dark roast that was slightly sweet.

“Gavelscore is the name of the nearest city,” Xen informed us once we had been left alone in the small kitchen. Edda had gone back out the door we had come through and Aldrich had disappeared up some stairs.

“This is going to complicate our finding the way back to Vaneesh,” Daria added, her eyes skipping around the room and coming back to us. “We can’t just go around asking people how to find the portal.”

“Our best bet is still to head to town,” Xen said. “I could not turn down the hospitality once it was offered. Not without offending them, and Edda looked fairly offended to start with.”

“What did you tell them?” Daria asked quietly.

“That we were travelers who had been robbed on our way to the city,” Xen replied. “Once I heard them speak, I knew where we were. Their speech is distinctive. One of their minor deities is the Faceless Stranger, who commands that those who honor him extend hospitality to all.”

“Amblin isn’t the only one you’ve met from here, is he?” Daria asked, turning to her food.

“No,” Xen replied. “When my birthmates and I were young, one of the caretakers was a woman from a town on this world. She told us many stories.”

“I really need to stop going places where people want me dead.” My magic hangover was starting to ease up with the liberal application of food and coffee. I wasn’t going to be up to casting any time soon, but at least I didn’t feel like my head was going to implode.

Aldrich reappeared then, clad in a dark blue dress, with a wide skirt covered in an apron, his long brown hair plaited and styled in circles around his head. He smiled broadly at us as he refilled our coffee. He asked a question, which I caught about one-third of, and Xen wiped their face on a napkin before responding.

He was moving around the kitchen as they spoke. Daria and I ate quietly, not entirely sure what we were meant to be doing. “Yes, andyttan,” Xen said, rising from the table. They started helping Aldrich clear our plates, giving me a look when I began to do the same. I sank back into my chair and finished the coffee in my cup instead.

Once the kitchen was tidied, Aldrich handed Xen a basket filled with leftover sausages and bread, then walked us to the door. Edda reigned in the two beasts pulling a wagon, like something out of Little House on the Prairie, if Pa Ingalls had horses that looked like overly large greyhounds. She grunted and jerked her head toward the bed of the wagon behind her.

“Our host will take us into town,” Xen explained. They climbed up first, then offered a hand to each of us. We were barely seated before the wagon lurched forward. Aldrich waved as we pulled out onto the road.

“Quick things to know,” Xen said in a hushed tone. “Gender roles are very strict here, and the reverse of what you may be used to. The society is matriarchal; the women control everything from religion to government. I have told them we are from a town many days’ journey from here. You must let me speak for us in most situations. There are many ways we may endanger ourselves here.”

“No argument from me,” I said, rubbing my face.

The road was fairly smooth, though in places the wagon bounced over rocks and potholes filled with water. Now that the sun was fully up, the day was warm and the air thick with humidity. The road was dirt and gravel, passing first through open fields, then as we neared the outskirts of the city, a sluggish river sidled up to the left side of the road, and trees filled the right.

The city was surrounded by a rock wall topped with parapets and punctuated by huge wooden doors that stood open but guarded. The wagon rumbled through the doors and made its way through streets lined with carts, shops, and taverns.

When it stopped, our benefactor said something to Xen and gestured with her chin toward what looked like an inn or tavern with a sign painted in faded yellow featuring a dragon and what looked like Wyld Wyvern for a name. Xen thanked her and drew us toward the doors. Inside, the tavern part of the building was largely empty. There was one woman at a table, laying out tiles with symbols on them, and one woman behind the bar. It was like walking onto the set of an old Western movie.

The bartender nodded at us. “Canne help êow?”

Xen glanced at me, then stepped closer. “Min frig and hir sweostor were uppan by bandits. We seke scead and werk. Mastery Comly lean êow rím agan arstafa.”

I was definitely thinking that Xen’s talents with languages were actually affecting me through our connection because I understood most of that. Either that or my Old English wasn’t as rusty as I had thought it was.

The woman behind the bar gave a stiff nod. “Cannae êow cran mete?”

Xen nodded. “Ay bâm til rostian.”

“Ay pro fremung weargbr on cycene, ford forth hêdan rýmet yonder. Day wyrht for in wýscan rýmet.”

“Aye, dances êow.”

The woman came out from behind the bar and gestured toward the stairs. We followed her up and down a mezzanine that overlooked the bar, then into a corridor marked by doors. She took a ring of keys from her belt and unlocked a door at the far end, then handed the key to Xen.

The room was small, with a bed that might fit two of us if we didn’t mind spooning. Beside the bed was a small table with an oil lamp and a basin with a pitcher. There were a few hooks on the walls for clothes and not much else. Xen thanked our host and waited until she was gone to sigh and close the door.

“This is the only room available,” Xen said. “I will work in the kitchen in return for the room.”

“We need more than just a roof over our heads.” Daria tested the bed and sat with a sigh.

“Do we have anything we can sell?” I asked, joining Daria. “A city this size must have a way we can make money while we figure out where the portal is.”

“Do you think you could jump us straight to the portal?” Daria asked.

I shook my head. “I doubt I could jump at all right now, and I saw absolutely nothing as we came through, so I don’t think I want to risk it.”

Daria nodded. She pulled off my hiking backpack and set it on the bed. I shrugged out of the smaller backpack and did the same. We didn’t have a lot, and what we did have would not go over well in a world as backward as this. Daria dumped out her backpack on the bed and I followed suit. Together we sifted through the contents, none of which looked promising.

Daria had filled the large backpack with some food rations, a large first-aid kit, some pictures of Habros and Kota, and various trinkets, none of which promised any great return monetarily.

In the smaller backpack, I also had a few rations, a small amount of first-aid stuff, and our communication devices, which probably wouldn’t work there. From the pockets of my vest, I pulled the bag of ward stones, with my mother’s necklace inside, xýpna pouch, and the buzzer for Katyk’s collar.

Xen pulled something from a pocket. I couldn’t see it, but I got a wave of anxiety from them as they examined it, then held out their hand so we could see. It was a dark red stone, faceted so that it caught the light, set in what looked to me like silver.

“That’s beautiful, Xen,” Daria’s voice was soft, reverent.

“It was a gift from Elder Pya, one of my forebears. It comes from our homeworld. It is said the stone was made in the fires of Havek Dor, the volcano that made our world and then destroyed it.”

I shook my head. “You can’t sell that.” My hand moved to the pouch holding the ward stones. I had less attachment to my pendant than Xen’s to theirs, and I realized slowly I was still wearing the pendant Daria’s friend had given me. Between the two, we should be able to at least pick up some more appropriate clothing for the three of us, if we could find someone interested in buying.

Xen had tears in their eyes but held their head up. “We can not eat this, nor wear it. I will ask the good Mastrey where I might find someone interested.”

“Mastrey?” I asked.

Xen nodded. “Yes, I believe that to be the safest title.” They repocketed the gem and its chain. “I should get down to the kitchen. You two should probably just stay here, for now.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What? Just sit here?”

“You don’t speak the language or know the customs.”

“We can still walk around,” Daria said.

Xen sighed. “Do not be gone long. We know very little about this place.”

“All the more reason we should look around,” Daria countered, standing.

I shoved the pouch into the pocket of my pants, then our things back into our packs before tucking them under the bed. I shed my vest and untucked my shirt to make my clothing a little less conspicuously foreign.

Daria followed my lead, then we headed out. Xen paused to lock the door, then handed me the key. I pocketed it, and Daria and I headed for the front door while Xen headed toward where I supposed the kitchen was hiding.

We paused outside the door, glancing around to get our bearings. The streets were muddy, though it seemed that under the mud was a packed layer of clay that didn’t give way under the hooves of the various pack animals. Across the street from us was a storefront with large glass windows with hats on display and beside that was a store window filled with dresses. Most of them were fairly plain like the one Aldrich had put on before we left, but there were a few fancier ones as well.

Daria pointed up the street and we started in that direction. The mud streets gave way to cobblestone and the buildings seemed newer, cleaner, and a little higher class. Here there were restaurants with painted windows and homes with gables and dormers, painted in colors I thought might have been bright at one time, but the heavy mist that seemed to be the constant state of the weather made them seem dull.

“It feels like London, circa 1880,” I muttered, tucking damp hair behind an ear.

“Where?” Daria asked.

I shook my head. “Never mind.”

“There’s a jewelry store,” Daria said, taking my hand and drawing me with her across the street.

The pieces on display in the window showed skill in metalwork, with silver and bronze trinkets with and without gemstones. Daria craned her neck to look further into the store.

“We could just go in,” I said, nudging her.

“Do we dare?”

I rolled my eyes at her. “Come on.”

I stepped up into the store, which was narrow with a glass-top counter that held the seller’s wares. A well-rounded woman with rosy cheeks and a quick smile emerged from behind a curtain, bobbing her head in our direction. “Goode marn, cannae serve?”

I smiled and ignored Daria grabbing at my shirt. “Goode marn, um …” I exhaled and ran through a hundred responses. “Doon ye … um … buy?”

“Nun local?” The woman chuckled. “Gese, Ay buy. Cannae see?”

Daria was tense beside me, but I ignored her and pulled out the bag that held my ward stones, opening it carefully, even as her hand tightened on my elbow. I extracted the pendant, which was precious to me but had less overall sentimentality than Xen’s did. Mine was a family heirloom. Theirs was an heirloom to an entire race of people.

If Daria recognized it, she said nothing. It was a heavy pewter and ruby necklace that had belonged to my mother, and her mother before that, back down the Alizon line. The ancient pewter had been cleaned and polished and the ruby in its center was smooth and unfaceted. I set it in the woman’s hand, and she nodded appreciatively before reaching under the counter for a soft velvet cloth that she laid on the counter.

She set the pendant on the cloth, then turned behind her, coming back with a pair of glasses with a jeweler’s loupe over one eye. She examined the pendant, turning it over and examining the chain, nodding to herself. “Es go’d. Ay cannae go ye fîftig duckels.”

I had no idea if that was a good price, but I nodded in agreement, then reached under my shirt and pulled off the other necklace. The shopkeeper took it from me, examining it the same way. “Ay cannae go ye thîftig duckels.”

We needed money if we were going to get by. I nodded again. A few moments later, I had a purse full of coins and we left the shop.

“We should make an effort to blend in,” I said as we headed back toward our accommodations. Everything about us made us stand out, from the length of our hair to the cut of our clothes.

“We passed a barbershop,” Daria said.

“And that clothing store,” I added, tucking my newfound wealth into a pocket.

* * *

Several hours later, both of us sporting new haircuts in styles that would help us blend in and new clothes for ourselves and Xen, we returned to the tavern and our room above it. I had opted for a cut that would minimize the frizz that my hair liked to default to in the humidity we were dealing with.

The barber had cut it back, shorter than I’d worn it since my teens, parted on the right, and slicked down with a pomade that made it both shiny and mostly straight. She had thrown in the pomade as well. Daria had opted for something a little longer, a straight cut at about the level of the bottom of her ear.

I stripped out of the black uniform I’d been wearing since we had left the Vaneeshi army camp and pulled on the trousers I had purchased. They were black also, but lighter weight. Over that, I had a blousy white shirt with tapered sleeves that buttoned at the wrist and a vest that matched the pants in color and fabric. I had a jacket as well: a smart double-breasted number that came to my knees. I kept the boots I’d been wearing and topped the whole thing off with a hat that hit somewhere between a bowler hat and a top hat.

Daria was similarly dressed, though she had opted for a deep brown fabric for the vest and pants, with a jacket that came to the top of her boots.

We had learned a good amount and had figured out communication with most of the people we encountered, though some were admittedly harder than others. The small city we were in, Gavelscore, was ruled over by a governor named Belle MacInster who ruled in the name of the Duchess of Ellover.

Between us, Daria and I had worked out a story that covered for our odd clothing and dialect, though we said as little as possible in that regard. We purported to have journeyed from far away, lands outside of the duchy, and may have implied outside of the country.

Once we were dressed, Daria and I headed downstairs to the tavern, choosing a table near the giant fireplace that was warming the room. A different bartender was on duty, a woman in a striking red suit with a high collar and tie. Like perhaps half of the townsfolk we had encountered, she was dark-skinned, her hair cropped close.

Her smile was bright as she came to us. “Ye moost eren ûser ednîwe. Bae wel.”

Daria nodded to me, so I looked up at our hostess. “Bae wel. Ay de ic Thána. Daet ic Daria. We wolde liketh onlic supper,” I said, introducing us and asking for dinner. The dialect seemed to be a weird combination of Old and Middle English, with obvious differences due to developing in a completely different culture. My high school and early college fascination were going to serve me well.

“Goode. Doon ye foreberan stewe or venison?”

“Stewe,” Daria replied.

I nodded. “Stewe.”

The bartender nodded to us and disappeared behind a door I assumed led to the kitchen. She reappeared moments later, going to the bar before bringing two glasses containing what looked like beer, somewhere between a lager and a brown ale in color. She put the glasses on our table and went to other customers.

“You seem comfortable here,” Daria observed.

“I considered getting my college degree in English Language History.” I sipped the beer in my glass and nodded appreciatively. It was nutty and thick, with a subtle caramel flavor on the finish. “I love how languages evolve. I couldn’t figure out how that sort of degree would earn me enough to live on though, so I switched over to a management track. The owner of the bookstore I worked in kept me well-stocked in books though.”

She raised an eyebrow at me but didn’t respond as Xen appeared, an apron over their uniform and two steaming bowls in their hands. They smiled warmly as they set the bowls down. “I see you’ve been busy. How did you manage?”

“Took your idea,” I said, lifting the spoon they set down beside the bowl. “Sold some jewelry. Now you don’t have to sell yours.”

“What jewelry did you have to sell?” Xen asked.

“Just something that used to be my mother’s. I haven’t worn it since … well, since Mom and I got to Vaneesh. It was buried down in my backpack. Nearly forgot I had it. Transferred it into the bag with my stones before we headed for Meerat.”

“We got you some clothes too,” Daria said.

“I should get back to the kitchen. I should be done soon.”

We had a lot left to figure out before we could begin looking for the portal back to Vaneesh. It would be dangerous to go around asking people about a magic portal. I also had not forgotten that somewhere in the world, Katyk was possibly free and probably looking for us.

Daria and I ate, sipped our beer, and watched as people came and went. As I was finishing my beer, a lively card game of some kind was happening at a table near the front, five women in moderate garb drinking and laughing as coins clinked in a pile between them. “I guess some things are the same everywhere,” I said.

A young man with dark hair pulled up in a low bun approached us, his dull blue skirt covered with a dirty apron that had once been white. He gestured to our plates, and I nodded, passing them to him. A few moments later, Xen joined us, their eyes skipping around the room before gesturing toward the stairs. Together, the three of us went to our small room, shutting the door as Xen collapsed onto the bed.

“Are you okay?” I asked, sitting next to them, and lifting a hand to rub over their back.

“I will be. Just tired. It has been a long while since I have worked on my feet all day.”

Somewhere in my memory, there was knowledge of what Xen had done before the war, something I’d seen during that long night of our bonding. They had been teaching at the University, languages, and Pixila, but prior to that, they had worked as a line cook while attending classes.

“You two seem to have adapted well today,” Xen observed, gesturing at Daria’s clothing.

“It was her,” Daria countered. “You would have been impressed.”

Xen grinned at me. “Oh, I am.”

“We got you some stuff to help you fit in better.” Daria handed over the bag that contained undergarments, two pairs of pants and two shirts, and an apron.

“Great. Thank you.” Xen set the bag aside and bent down to untie their boots.

“With any luck, we can find our way home soon,” Daria said.

“It may be a while,” Xen countered. “From what I have picked up on today, this place is pretty backward.”

“We noticed,” I said. “So far, we know the local governor’s name, the Duchess’s name, and that there is a Queen.”

Xen nodded. “There is also a city Healdor, or Mayor, and a Steallere, or constable. Big news stories of the day included a dead body they found down by the riverfront—a man who had his stomach sliced open and his genitals removed. And the preparations for the centennial celebrations in a month. Apparently, we’ll be expecting a royal visitor.”

“I overheard a little something about the dead body,” I said. “Speculation is that he was a low-rent body-boy, which I took to be the polite way to say he was a prostitute.”

“That was the speculation I heard as well.” Xen yawned.

I echoed the yawn, suddenly lulled by the beer and heavy food. It was still early, the world outside our one small window just starting to get dark. “I’ll go see if I can get us some extra bedding,” I said, standing.

CHAPTER2

SETTLING IN

I left them sorting out arrangements and headed back down to the tavern, where I ran into the same young man who had cleared our dishes. “Canne Ay geten … um … blankets and a pillow?”

He looked at me confused, so I put my hands together and set my head on them like they were a pillow.

“Oh, ya, canne geten. Commen.”

He led me to a curtained-off doorway, disappearing within, and returning with a stack of blankets and a pillow. “Dances ěow.” Before I could return to the room, there was a commotion that came spilling through the tavern doors.

“Tey âmyltan anooder oon!”

The speaker was a man who looked to be in his forties, with stringy black hair that hung about an ashen face marked with sores. Almost as one, the women gathered in the tavern got to their feet and bustled outside.

I followed, blankets and pillow held to my chest as I tried my best to see over the crowd that had gathered at the mouth of an alley between two buildings. Women in what I took to be police uniforms were holding the crowd back. “Deos ys it, Mary?” someone called out.

“Jackie Barren,” one of the policewomen said. “Te manslaga ynterrupted.”

The crowd seemed disappointed and began to disperse, allowing me to see into the alley. The man was splayed out in the mud, his skirt hiked up, exposing his partially removed genitals. The chest of his bodice was bright red with blood. I turned away, swallowing against a sudden urge to vomit as I hurried back to Xen and Daria.

“What took so long?” Daria asked as I pushed the door shut behind me. “Are you okay?” she asked when she saw my face.

I was shaking as I handed her the pillow and blankets, shaking my head. “There was another murder, right across the street.”

Xen sat up from where they had been nearly asleep in the bed. “Another one?”

I nodded, pulling a hand through my shorter-than-normal hair. “Looked like the killer tried to take off his balls but got interrupted.”

“You saw it?” Daria asked incredulously.

“Only a little. He was in the alley.” I shivered and put the image out of my head before I sat to take off my boots. Xen was on the side of the bed closest to the wall and Daria was making up a bed on the floor. I stripped out of my new clothes, hanging them on the hook before sliding into the bed in just my underwear and the tank top I’d kept from my uniform.

Despite the early hour, I fell easily into sleep. The day had been long and trying, and I was still recovering from the overuse of my magical abilities. I had also not allowed myself to have any of the remaining xýpna powder. We were dangerously low, and I might need it to get us home.

Thunder woke me in the early hours of the morning. I eased myself up slowly, not wanting to wake Xen or Daria, and pulled on my pants before tiptoeing to the door to find the bathroom. It was little more than a closet with a seat over a hole that looked like it fed into a pipe that flushed the waste out to someplace I didn’t care to think about, using a water sluice activated by a rope pull.

I did my business and flushed in the dark, then made my way back to our room. Xen was sitting up when I came in, their outline visible in the light from the moon outside our window. I picked my way around Daria and back to the bed.

“What time is it?” Xen asked, their voice barely a whisper.

“Early,” I responded. I knew I was done sleeping and contemplated going downstairs so I didn’t wake Daria.

“Let me up?”

I moved so Xen could get up, watching as they dressed as quietly as possible. Like me, Xen chose to keep their boots. Once they were dressed and I had put on my boots, we left Daria asleep on the floor and made our way downstairs.

Xen led me into the kitchen, a square room dominated by a large fireplace, with a prep table made of a good six-inch thick slab of wood, and a white enamel sink set into a wooden counter, the pump set to the right side. It reminded me of a fourth-grade field trip to one of those living history museums.

The air was chilled and I set myself to starting a fire, a task made easier by a hot bed of coals left from the night before. I used the iron poker to stir up the coals, then fed it some kindling from the woodpile, followed by a couple of logs. In a few minutes, I had heat flowing into the room.

Xen lifted a metal rack from beside the fireplace, fitting it into grooves in the walls, creating a cooktop over the fire. I hadn’t seen that in any museums I’d been to. “If you want coffee, you will need to work for it,” Xen said, a twinkle in their black eyes.

“Oh?” I watched them pull a canister from under a counter and place it on the prep table next to a piece of stone with a groove in the middle. Beside the stone was what looked like a stone rolling pin. I opened the canister to the welcome aroma of coffee. The beans inside were an odd reddish color, but the smell was perfect. “I guess I need to grind them?”

Xen smiled and took a pot to the sink, pumping water into it before taking it to the fire. I took a handful of beans and put them on the stone, lifting the rolling pin. It seemed to be made to specifically fit in the groove. The mechanics of it seemed easy enough. It would be so much easier to use magic, but if I got caught, I didn’t know what would happen, so I resorted to manually pushing the rolling pin down onto the beans.

While I crushed beans, Xen moved around the kitchen, pulling together ingredients and tools, and bringing them to the prep table. I paused my grinding to watch as they began piling a dark brown flour on the surface, making a well in it. The eggs they took from a bowl on a counter were larger than chicken eggs, with a vaguely green color, speckled with purple dots. They cracked the eggs into the well.

Xen looked up at me, a question on their face.

I smiled. “Where’d you learn to cook?” I asked, though I knew the answer. I just liked hearing them tell stories of their life. I went back to my work, glancing up as they continued working.

“When I was a child, I was apprenticed to a chef for five years. He was very patient with me and taught me many things.”

“As a child?” I asked. For as close as we had become and all of the sharing we’d done during the bonding ritual, there were a lot of things I didn’t quite understand about their race and culture.

“You would likely not consider me a child at the time, but Pixin do not age as humans do.” Xen had turned the pile of flour into a mound of dough that they were kneading. “We spend five years in each of several disciplines. We all begin with languages with a mentor who translates, either for government or for bookhouses. Then, we choose those things which interest us to learn. I chose cooking, painting, sculpture, and martial arts.”

“That’s an interesting combination.” I lifted the rolling pin to examine my progress. “I think I’m done.”

Xen looked over at the grounds and nodded. “Good. Near the sink, you will find a carafe. There is some cheesecloth in the middle drawer.” They nodded toward the stack of drawers under the counter behind me. “Put the grounds in the cheesecloth and fold it up like an envelope.”

I followed Xen’s instructions, thinking I could see where this was going. “And put the grounds in the bottom of the carafe?” I asked. The carafe was ceramic, painted white with purple and blue flowers.

“Yes. Check the water; it should be hot enough.”

I went to the fireplace to get the pot of water, carefully pouring it into the carafe.

“Let it steep,” Xen said, covering their ball of dough with a towel. They crossed to a door I hadn’t seen and opened it, stepping into a spacious pantry, and emerging with two mugs. “Are you hungry?” Xen asked.

I shook my head. “Not really. My stomach’s a little unhappy.” It wasn’t upset exactly, but the thought of food unsettled it. “Maybe after coffee.”

“Our benefactor wants me to prepare breakfast for the guests. I am told that other than the three of us, there are five women staying here.”

“I would offer to help, but me and the kitchen don’t get along.”

“I do not mind. I prefer having something to do.”

“Yeah, me too.” I wasn’t good at sitting still. Never had been. “Maybe I should get a job too. If we had some money coming in, we could get a second room.”

“Perhaps. You might speak with Mastery Claudette. The coffee is ready to be pressed. The plunger is there.” Xen pointed to a stick with a rounded end. “Press the packet of grounds to release the strongest flavors. It is then ready to pour.”

I followed their instructions, my mouth watering at the smell of coffee … or whatever this was, then poured some into each mug. I lifted the cup, savoring the smell before taking my first sip. “What do they call this?” I asked.

“Affe,” Xen responded.

The door behind me opened and a pale light preceded the entrance of the young man I had met the day before. He was dressed plainly, his dress a dark brown. In one hand he carried a bucket with what looked like milk, and in the other a basket of eggs.

“Sal morgen,” the boy said.

I moved to help him, taking the eggs, and setting them on the counter by the remaining ones from the day before.

“Dank êow, Calder.” Xen took the bucket of milk and set it on the counter by the eggs. “Canne êow getten som hekka?”

Calder nodded and headed back outside.

“They have a cold room downstairs. It is where they store perishables.”

I poured more of the affe into my cup. “I should get out of your way. I’ll be out front.”

Taking my cup, I headed for the front doors. The city was slowly waking up as I sat on the bench in front of the tavern. Wagons pulled by the horse-like animals were led or driven by women. A woman pulling a cart filled with produce stopped in front of me and hollered something I didn’t understand.

Calder did though, appearing with a nervous laugh. The woman pointed to a basket filled with purple and orange carrot-looking things and some white fruits that resembled lemons. Calder took the basket with a sort of bow and scurried back inside.

“Lasen cú.” The woman spit the words before putting her hands back on the handles of the cart and moving on.

I sipped my affe and scanned the street. It felt like we had stepped into a movie when we’d fallen through the portal. Across the street, the alley was still blocked off, some barrels and wooden beams blocking the view. There was one uniformed woman standing guard. I wondered if the man who had died there was a body-boy like the one they had found down by the water.

“Hey.”

I looked up to find my sister standing beside me. She motioned with her chin toward the cop. “That where it happened?”

I nodded, finishing my cup. My stomach still wasn’t happy, and my head had decided it needed to get in on the noise. “Looks like they’re keeping everyone out.”

“Sounds like they have a problem,” Daria said, stretching. “Have you eaten?”

I shook my head. “My stomach is queasy.”

She frowned at me. “How’s your head?”

I rubbed the back of my head where the pounding felt like it was just getting started. “Loud,” I responded. “I just need more caffeine.” I stood, then lurched as if the wooden porch beneath my feet had shuddered.

Daria caught me, lifting a hand to my forehead. “You’re not feverish.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say I was hungover,” I said.

She kept her arm around my shoulder as we went back inside. Someone had gotten a fire started in the main room. I shivered, as if the heat reminded my body that it was cold. Daria took my cup as I sat in a chair near the fire and disappeared into the kitchen. She returned a few moments later with the cup filled.

“How much of the xýpna powder did you use to get us here?” Daria asked, her voice filled with concern.

“Too much,” I responded. The affe was warming, and the caffeine was helping, or I wanted to believe it was. “I’ll be fine.”

“Is there any left?”

“Some.” I pulled the pouch out of my pocket and handed it to her.

“There aren’t even five doses in here.”

“Like I said, too much.” I didn’t want a lecture. “I’ll take it easy today. Tomorrow I’ll be fine.”

Calder came from the kitchen with two plates that he set in front of us. A slab of that brown bread with a smear of butter was nestled beside a mound of scrambled eggs and a fat sausage that glistened with grease. I was okay until the smell hit me, and that was when my stomach decided to turn over and throw its contents up through my esophagus.

I bolted for the door, doubling over to drop the former contents of my stomach onto their new home: the muddy street. There wasn’t all that much there, mostly affe and bile, but my stomach was at least enthusiastic about it. By the time I was done dry heaving, the pain in my head had tripled, my temples pulsing to the tempo of my heart.

Daria’s hand rubbed my back as I tried to decide if I wanted to stand up or just sit down right there. I lifted a hand for Daria to help me stand up, wobbling a little as my head spun. “I think it’s fair to say this is withdrawal.”

“Yes, it is. The next few days are not going to be pleasant for you, I’m afraid.” Daria helped me to a chair at an empty table. “I can try to see if I can find ingredients to make you something to take the edge off.”

“Too risky,” I said. “I’ll make do with what we have.” I had no experience with withdrawal, aside from whatever some television show or movie might have told me. “I’m going to go upstairs and lay down.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Daria asked.

“Eat your breakfast.” I pushed myself to my feet and walked slowly to the stairs.

I could feel Daria watching me and I did my best to not fall on my face before I got to our room. I stripped down to my underwear and tank top and crawled into the bed, dragging the backpack to me so I could rummage through it for the potions that might make a small difference in how I felt. I took a dose of both the pain and nausea potions before laying down to listen to the pounding inside my head.

CHAPTER3

FAKING IT

I wouldn’t say that I slept, but I wasn’t doing much more than existing when Daria came into the room. “How are you feeling?”

I pulled a hand across my eyes and groaned a little as I shifted to sit up. “About the same.”

“I found an apothecary.” She held up a small vial. “This should help a little. Put a drop of that under your tongue.”

Daria handed me the vial and I opened it carefully, recoiling at the smell. “Seriously?”

“Sorry, best I could do given the circumstances. However, I did convince the apothecary to give me a job. We need to function until we can find our way back to the portal.”

I used the dropper in the vial to place a drop under my tongue. It tasted as bad as it smelled. “How did you manage the language?”

She chuckled. “I faked it as best I could. There’s enough English in the mix I can get the gist. Besides, science is its own language. She understood that easily enough.”

“I was thinking I should find something too. Get us out of this one-room situation. I’m just not sure what that would be. My skillset doesn’t exactly work well here.”

“Let's get you back on your feet before you worry about it. How are you feeling now?”

I thought about it. The headache had been dialed back but wasn’t gone, and my stomach was making noises that sounded vaguely like hunger. “Better, I think.”

She nodded. “Good. One drop every two hours or so, and we’ll see if that doesn’t get you over the worst of it. I should go. I told my new boss I’d be back once I’d delivered this to you. If you feel up to it, Xen’s got some broth and tea ready for you.”

I watched her leave and debated whether I was up to attempting to go downstairs and decided that I needed to get something in my stomach. I dressed and headed down. Half the tables in the tavern held several women enjoying lunch and talking. I headed for an empty table and took a seat, my eyes scanning the room to get an idea of who these women were.

Calder appeared with dishes that he served to one of the tables. He smiled when he saw me and came to my table. “Ora êow myne su booter?”

I nodded. “Canne êow telle Xen, Ay want sôm rop?” I struggled with the exact words but figured it was close enough for him to figure out.

He scampered away and I let myself contemplate the people in the room. It was early afternoon, so I assumed these women had come for lunch. The table nearest me held a tall dark-skinned woman with striking blue eyes. She wore nice clothes, though they weren’t new. There was some raggedness at the hems of her pants, and I saw signs of a patch on one knee. Her hair was cut close and slicked down, much like many of the others within the range of my eyes.

Beside her was a younger version of her, though I couldn’t be sure if that meant daughter or sister. Rounding out their table was a larger woman in newer clothes with gray hair and a laugh like a raven’s caw.

Nearer to the bar was a table of two who sat close together and kept their heads down and their voices low. They felt my eyes and looked up, scowling at me. I looked elsewhere.

Xen appeared then, setting a bowl of a rich broth on the table for me, followed by a cup of tea. “You okay?” Xen asked, concern in their voice.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“I was worried.”

I brushed their hand, then pulled back. I had no idea how public displays of affection would play here. “Just a little xýpna withdrawal. I’ll get over it.”

Xen went back to the kitchen, and I turned my attention to my broth. It was deep brown and smelled vaguely like beef. I took a sip and decided it also tasted like beef. I waited to see what my stomach would do and when it didn’t flip over, I settled in to drink my tea and broth.

“Not verray gêbed.”

I looked up to find a woman in the uniform of the city’s police force. I couldn’t remember the words I needed so I resorted to pantomime and English. “Queasy stomach.”

“Steallere Brooklane. Ay wolde liket to ask êow a fewe acsungs.”

I gestured for her to join me. She sat across from me and folded her hands on the table, looking me up and down. “Êow nun local?”

I shook my head. “Non, mîn sweostor and mîn …” I didn’t know how to describe Xen. “Mîn frêond are, um, traveling.”

“Thither did êower come?”

“Um, south? That way.” I pointed and she turned to look. I don’t think she understood me. I tried to think of a town name that would fit this culture but was failing. “Inkshire,” I finally said, gesturing vaguely again in the direction we had come from.

“For hwon êow come?” She was eyeing me suspiciously.

I thought she was asking me why we were there. I wasn’t sure how to answer her. “We seke werk.”

“Êow saw mord anihst niht?”

I shook my head. “Non. Ay âwihte heard te noise.” I touched my ear to make up for my inability to work out words. It had been a long time since I had broken off my love affair with Old English and most of what I had retained were common words.

The constable nodded and stood. “Bêo foreglêaw.” She looked me over before leaving.

“Wot was de uppan?” The woman speaking had dark red hair and she was dressed in dusty brown clothes that reminded me of an old west gunslinger. She sat without being invited and I raised an eyebrow.

“Non, jus âscung.”

She kicked one dirty boot-covered foot up onto the chair next to me. “Pucian dôcincel de oon. Ay Anne Gothfried.” She leaned forward and held out her hand.

I met her hand with mine and was rewarded with a firm shake. “Thána Alizon.”

“I thought I heard you speaking my language.”

I nearly dropped my spoon and had to swallow quickly to not choke on the broth in my mouth. “I beg your pardon?”

She grinned wickedly. “That’s what I thought.” She had a vaguely Australian-sounding accent, and her English was good. “Crazy, this place, right?”

I blinked at her, trying to decide how open to be with her. “I—how long have you been here?”

She shrugged. “A good few years. Got lost in a cave, fell through a hole, and landed here. Broke my leg. By the time I’d found help, I’d completely lost track of where I’d started.”

The small hope that had flared with the knowledge that she had come from elsewhere and might know the way out died. I finished my broth and pulled my tea close. “I know how that is,” I said neutrally. “Our story is similar.”

“Figured as much. How long have you been here?”

“Just a few days. We’re trying to figure out what to do next.”

She nodded. “Sure. A few things you should know.” She leaned toward me conspiratorially. “Keep a low profile. Stay this side of the river; there’s a plague sweeping the slums. Stay off the streets once the sun goes down, especially in this part of town. There’s a killer or two hunting the nights.”

I nodded at that. “The body in the river and the one in the alley.”

She sat back again. “Oh, aye, but there’s those no one talks about too. High society girl cut up something awful a month ago, up northside of town. And a cousin of Steallere Brooklane’s a few weeks ago. In their own bedrooms.”

“Do they have any suspects?” I asked.

Anne raised an eyebrow at me. “Well, she did just ask you some questions.”

“Is that why? She thinks we had something to do with this?” I shook my head. “We haven’t been here long enough.”

“You think that will matter if she decides you did it? Justice here doesn’t have a very true aim. So, watch your step.”

“Thanks, I will.”

I was even more unsettled than I had been before she sat down. Calder came to take my empty bowl, nodding in respect to both Anne and myself before he headed back to the kitchen.

“At least they got that part right,” Anne said, putting her feet back on the floor and standing. “Men in their rightful place, I mean.” She chuckled. “If you’re around later, I aim to have a card game going. I’ll teach you how to play.”

She sauntered away, nodding greetings as she passed people, and disappeared out the door.