Page 45 of The Ragpicker King
White jasmine was the flower of Kutani. Every balcony seemedto sport a plant pot from which white jasmine flowers spilled; every door was a wreath of the blooms. The air reeked with the rich, buttery-sweet scent. Alongside the jasmine were displayed yellow roses, the flower of House Aurelian, and colorful silk flags of Castellane flew from every window.
The closer Lin came to the Ruta Magna, the more densely crowded the streets became. Castellani had turned out in celebratory colors: bright red and gold, of course, as well as lime greens and raspberry silks saturated enough to look edible. Women wore crowns of flowers; the men pinned sprays to their buttonholes or pockets.
Lin realized she was terribly underdressed. But then, she was obviously Ashkar: people’s gazes slid over her and away, dismissing her, just as they usually did. The Ashkar were not expected to celebrate things like royal marriages. After all, they were not really citizens of Castellane.
Lin soon found herself entangled in a group of drunkenly boisterous students, carried along for several blocks, and deposited somewhere near the Street of Singing Women. Irritably, she dusted off her clothes and cut across the Temple District toward the Fountain Quarter, where her first patient, Zofia Kovati, lived.
She found Zofia in high good humor. Zofia had been a pirate in her younger days and still wore a black eyepatch. Today she wore a military jacket buttoned over an old-fashioned taffeta dress with full skirts.
“There’ll be music in the streets tonight,” Zofia said a bit dreamily, as Lin knelt to feel the swelling in the old woman’s frail ankles. “Clever of the Aurelians to marry the Crown Prince off to the girl from Kutani.”
“Yes,” Lin said. Clever and cold. Conor did not love this Princess, though perhaps if she was as beautiful as rumor had it, he would come to eventually. Her stomach tried to give another sick little lurch, but she ignored it and picked up her auscultor.
“I was in Kutani, long ago,” Zofia said, still in the same dreamytone. “In Spice Town. The houses there are like castles. The sand so fine and soft you can sleep on it like a mattress. Even commoners are draped in silks and velvet, gold rings in their ears, on their fingers. The gardens are like paradise.”
The thrum of Zofia’s voice came through the auscultor, along with the sounds of her failing heart. When the heart began to die, Lin knew, fluid built up around the muscle, slowing its function further, causing the body to retain water and salt. A Castellani doctor would bleed Zofia’s swollen arms and legs, as if they were the cause of her ills and not a symptom. They would tell Zofia she could be cured.
Lin knew better than that.
She put away her auscultor and took out the usual medication.Digitalis lantana.“One tablet each morning with water,” she instructed. “And I shall leave several talismans for you, too, here on the nightstand. Wear them close to your skin.”
Zofia looked impish. “Can I dance? In the streets tonight, there will be dancing to celebrate the royal marriage.”
“Of course you can dance. In fact, I recommend it.” Lin slung her satchel over her shoulder. “I prescribe moonlight and music and a handsome young admirer to swing you about.”
Zofia cackled as Lin took her leave. If anything, it was hotter outside than it had been before. Lin walked close to the buildings, keeping to the shaded areas as she headed toward the Temple District. Children gathered around the public cisterns, splashing themselves with water. There would be swimming in the Fear River, cold sherbets sold from stands that seemed to appear magically on every corner when the heat rose above a certain temperature—
Lin sensed movement on her right side and turned her head just as a carriage pulled up alongside her. It was not just any carriage. This was a Marivent carriage, all red lacquer, with a gold lion blazoned on the side. The driver, perched in his seat above, wore Palace livery; he was staring straight ahead, his expression dour, as if he did not see her.
The carriage door swung open. The man who leaned out had graying hair, a hawk’s profile, and a narrow, hard mouth.
Lin stopped in her tracks. The carriage halted beside her.
“Legate Jolivet,” she said. She looked up and down the street; there were a few pedestrians making their way toward the Ruta Magna, but they studiously avoided glancing in the direction of the carriage. Palace business was Palace business.
The Legate inclined his head. “Domna Caster.”
“Shouldn’t you be with the Prince?” she said. “On such an important day as this?”And a dangerous one.Mayesh had always said that for royalty, appearing in public was a matter of risk and reward. Exposed to the public, they were in danger, but to hide from the public was to risk their ire or contempt.
He raised a thin eyebrow. “Kel Anjuman has the situation well in hand, I assure you.”
Ah.When Kel had said he needed to retrieve a Princess, Lin had assumed he would be going to the dockswithConor. Not going in Conor’s place, a Sword Catcher acting not the part of protector, but the part of Prince.
“Come.” Jolivet gestured impatiently, indicating that she should get into the carriage. “Your presence is requested by the Palace.”
“By the Prince, you mean,” Lin said.
Jolivet simply stared at her, his expression stony. She knew she ought to be afraid, but something inside her rebelled. She was a physician, on rounds. She had other patients, people who depended on her. Unlike a certain Prince who clearly could not imagine that she had responsibilities more important than his whims.
“Mayesh Bensimon is my grandfather,” she said. “He will not like to hear of you treating me this way.”
“Mayesh would tell you that you were being foolish to deny the Palace, if that is indeed what you are doing,” said Jolivet. The signet ring on his hand flashed as he gestured dismissively. “Believe me. I know him well.”
He was right. Lin gritted her teeth together. She had the urgeto kick the wheels of the carriage and scream, but that would do no good either way.
She raised her chin and matched the Legate’s gaze, stare for stare. “I suppose,” she said. “But I will need to be back at the Sault before dark.”
He smiled thinly. “As you wish, Domna,” he said, and reached out with a callused hand to help her into the carriage.
