Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
I look at his sparkling eyes.
“An invitation—for afternoon tea.”
“Afternoon tea?”
“Hosted by the esteemed Eparch Valerius, high-ranking official and philanthropist. After we’ve made an appearance, we can explore the city centre.”
I stand so fast I almost knock over all my hard work. Nicostratus laughs. “Come.”
Afternoon tea is held in a lavish hall with a grand colonnaded foyer. Exotic perfumes lace the air, and musicians play for silk-robed dancers. Nobles and rich merchants enjoy the performances, drinking and eating, and smiling stiffly.
Nicostratus murmurs in my ear, “That’s the game. Revel in the extravagance while forging connections to increase profit.”
A woman in white at the periphery catches my eye. She’s a beautiful figure, in an intricate robe of white lace, but her hood is up, and she’s slinking toward the exit. She glances across the room, and as she does, I catch sight of her face and the delicate pearled mask around her eyes. “Who is that?”
“She must be Eparchess Juliana,” Nicostratus murmurs, curious. “She’s become well known here, my staff mentioned. Yet no one has seen her face.”
A middle-aged man moves to the stage and commands everyone’s attention with a few hard plucks on a nearby harp.
“Valerius,” Nicostratus tells me.
Unlike the rich fabrics and regal colours his guests are dressed in, Eparch Valerius’s tunic and fitted trousers, neat and orderly, emphasise his role as a respected official with subtlety and restraint. “I’ve invited you here today to ask for your aid in establishing an infirmary in the city. Hinsard has some of the best healers in all five kingdoms; we should use our resources to give back to the people. Support them with heavily subsidised medicinal spells and vitalian consultations.”
I stand straighter and tug at Nicostratus’s sleeve, then replace the circling wyvern button that my tugging popped off.
He chuckles and raises his voice over my head. “I’ll donate.”
Eparch Valerius graciously inclines his head, and it begins a series of hollers, businessmen and nobles trying to claw for the most generous donation.
We’re about to slip away from the hall when Eparch Valerius intercepts us with a grateful, toothy smile that emphasises a scar along his jawline. He engages Nicostratus in polite small talk, and Nicostratus introduces me as his guest, and “exceptionally talented at healing.”
“Is that so?” Eparch Valerius says. “I dabble myself. We’re lucky to have so many herb fields around the city. I see you carry a soldad—if you’re interested, there are daily workshops and weekly discussions run by the city’s most respected vitalians. And at the end of the month, I’m hosting the healing tournament.”
I grip my soldad, wishing desperately to feel any spark of magic. The Medicus Contest?
“This year we’ll have teams from every city in the kingdom,” he says. “See if you can’t join one.”
Nicostratus must feel my sudden tension. He clears his throat. “We’re actually on a quest to visit all the vitalians in the region. I imagine you’d know them all?”
Eparch Valerius calls for an aklo to make a list, and once we have it in our hands, he wishes us success and watches us go.
The Medicus Contest. What an opportunity for growth. If I can find someone who can heal me.
I whisk Nicostratus around the city with newfound eagerness. The streets pulse with life: bustling merchants bartering loudly while couriers dart between stalls with messages in hand. My gaze flits over the crowd—and snags on a constabulary uniform. My breath hitches at the distinct rhythm of a cane tapping against cobblestones, but before I can be sure, the figure vanishes into the flow of bodies, leaving me with a suddenly racing heart.
Nicostratus gestures to the third vitaliary on our list and I hurriedly sweep up the stairs.
“You’re like a pup,” he murmurs fondly.
“This opportunity . . . to work with vitalians, to inspire teams to grow through competition . . . this is where miracles happen. To be part of that, to witness that . . .”
“I wish you had this much sparkle in your eye when you look at me.”
My step falters over the threshold. “I . . .”
“I’m teasing,” Nicostratus says, his chuckle slightly more forced than before. “Go on in. I’ll wait.”
Inside, an older vitalian peers over his magnifying glass and greets me.
I’m a rush of words as I ask him if he knows any way to mend severed meridians. “I’ll try anything, even if it affects my lifespan. So long as I can get my magic back.”
He lifts his magnifying glass and peers at me, humming. “What you need won’t come from herbs, potions, or spells.”
“What do I need?”
He sets his magnifying glass down. “Time.”
“They’ll mend on their own?”
He shakes his head empathetically, and a shiver spikes through me, forcing me back a few steps. “Time to accept—”
I spin on my heel.
Nicostratus catches me in my flight down the stone steps. “What happened?”