“Get up.” A boot nudged Deventh’s side.

The gruff, irritated voice belonged to Anna. She stared down at him, fists planted on her hips and fire burning in her eyes without a whit of sympathy. Deventh grunted, coughing up dust as he pushed himself up from the floor with quaking arms. Not fast enough for Anna, of course; rather than helping, she tapped her foot and repeated herself. He got up to his knees and rested his elbows on top of the bed beside him. Anna started in with a lecture, but Deventh was preoccupied with looking around and trying to squint away the slight blurring in his vision.

“This has gone on long enough, Deventh. You cannot travel alone anymore. You’re not well and you’re not taking it seri—what are you looking for? Are you even listening?”

“The boy.” Deventh brought a hand to the crust of dried blood under his nose as he wobbled to his feet. “And the doctor. Did you see anyone?”

“There’s a dead man on the floor in the entry bathing in his own blood. Other than that, no, we’ve gone no further than this room, if there is anyone else… Did you say doctor?”

“Aye, came here to get another opinion. Among other business.”

Anna pulled back the corners of a regretful frown. For once she seemed sorry for chastising him. Once he had his posture straight, she reached into her pocket and passed him a rag, earning a skeptical glare. “It’s clean,” she assured him.

Deventh figured he ought to meet her in the middle with some explanation of what had transpired, and as he was recounting, wiping away the blood under his nose, two faces peeked into the room.

“Crazy old devil,” said Ardmy, stepping in with his arms crossed, “If you were visiting a harborage, why didn’t you just say so?”

Jessa waited back in the hallway, leaning against the wall. From what he could see at a distance, Deventh picked out an unspecific intensity welling in her eyes, spilling over the blurred lines. He retracted his gaze, feeling as though he was being pulled down into the murky depths.

“How long have I been gone?” He changed the subject while Ardmy insisted on having a look at the bruising on his nose and forehead. He reached instinctively for his timekeeper, but the Gildvar was so uncomfortably close that his hands and face obstructed his view.

“Long enough,” said Anna. “The three who stayed behind are getting everything ready. We should only be behind schedule by a couple of hours, granted that we found you alive.”

All night, then. Deventh winced as Ardmy’s fingertip pressed into a tender spot on his nose.

“Alive is more than you could have asked for.” Ardmy stepped back with a hand clasped around his wrist. “If there’s a fracture in your nose, it’s mild enough that it should heal without intervention. And that bump on your forehead… Well, from the looks of it, you’re feeling that, too.”

“I’ve felt worse.” But he hadn’t in a long time. If Ardmy was right about his nose, it was no contender for his greatest discomfort. Not against a spinning, aching head and surges of nausea that weakened his knees. The worst of it, though, was that far-off feeling, as if his mind was trying to split away from him. He usually felt rejuvenated after his episodes, but this was the first time one had been accompanied by a concussion.

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Then he remembered the doctor’s other patient, and the note he was charged with bringing to the scribe. The thought of the boy still being there crossed his mind, too, hiding in another room. “One last thing before we go.”

He led them to the back room, keeping himself rigid even as the floor swayed beneath his feet. His vision was even blurrier now, but he stayed focused on the shape of the doorway at the end of the hall. When they approached the threshold, he held up a hand to signal the others to wait, then peeled the curtain back. The room looked just as it was left, including the bed along the far wall where the swaddled patient hadn’t moved.

With Anna close behind, he stepped in and strode toward the table where the doctor left his note. Anna approached the bed, her shoulders sagging after a brief inspection.

“He’s dead.” Her frown deepened against her profile when she turned her head to the candles left unlit. She knelt beside the bed, a grimace betraying the pain in her knees. Resting her hands on the frame a shoulder’s width apart, she lowered her head and gave a quick, silent prayer.

“Denied his final rites.” Deventh folded the note to Juniper in half, then in quarters, and slid it into his pocket. “At least he’s not Mezthrin.”

Anna raised her head and relaxed her arms but stayed kneeling. “I know we’re late for our departure, but the thought of leaving the bodies here doesn’t sit right with me. What should we do?”

“There is a butcher shop right above our heads.”

“Is this really the time for your jokes, Deventh?”

“It’s not entirely a joke.” Deventh met Anna at the bedside of the deceased man. He bowed his head, however little and late an offer of respect it was. “A report of two deaths is likely to be better received from the city’s trusty butcher than a couple of strangers passing through. Eliminates a troublesome bout of questioning, and while we’re at it we might ask whether he’s seen the runaway child.”

“What does it matter if he’s seen the child? Are you planning to chase him down?”

Deventh shrugged. “If he’s within reach.”

“Why? To take revenge? Who’s to say he won’t go off on another rampage? You got away with your life. Forget the child.”

“Revenge?” Deventh chuckled at the absurdity of the thought, then held his breath through the resulting wave of nausea before continuing. “Trying not to hurt him was the entire reason I ended up in this state. No, what I’m after is answers. The ramblings, the unbridled strength… It was like something had taken over him. Maybe it’s sheer madness, maybe it’s more.”

“This is an awful lot of speculation to act upon.”

“It certainly is,” Deventh admitted. All this time spent grasping for a medical explanation, and still he turned up nothing while his condition spiraled beyond control. The stare of the raven perched upon the fencepost, and the possessed shouts of a sickly young boy – given the fruitlessness of his efforts, such omens seemed saner leads to follow than any doctor’s advice. “But where have the paths of logic and sensibility led thus far? Only to dead ends.”

“I’m concerned with how hard that boy may have hit your head.” Anna pressed her weight into her hands and stood, turning to face Deventh. She caught sight of Ardmy and Jessa, both of whom had been standing quietly by the doorway, posted at each side and observing the conversation. “Now, two deaths are no small matter. Should I trust you have a plan to win favor with the butcher?”

“If talking to him and probing for an opportunity is a plan.”

“Very well. I suppose I can’t expect you to have all the ideas in the world if someone’s beaten them out of you with a curtain rod. If that’s all we have, then that’s all we have.”

Patting Deventh on the shoulder, she started for the exit. As he turned around to follow, Jessa’s lost stare once again filled his vision, but only for a brief moment before she pivoted and left the room.