Page 131 of Lake of Sorrow

“Ew. That’s not hygienic.”

“I don’t think good hygiene was their goal.”

His nose wrinkled. “What was their goal?”

“Some kind of ritual in which my blood would… I’m not sure exactly, but some people seem convinced a druid hooked up with some ancestor of ours.”

“Of ours?” Frayvar touched his chest. “The taybarri haven’t been standing at my window looking in.”

She started to wave dismissively, but a snuffling noise at the panes made her glance over. Two sets of blue-furred snouts were pressed against the glass, and one silver-furred head also gazed into the infirmary.

“I promised to make them honey drops. Or I might have been bribed to make them. I’m not sure.”

“You’re not the best negotiator.”

“I know. You’re the one with business acumen.”

“Which makes it puzzling that you keep running off without me.”

“Are you upset that I didn’t take you along for the blood drinking?”

“No. Being here gave me time to assemble evidence to clear our names.” Frayvar gestured toward a desk with two pieces of paper on it. One held a list of ingredients. The other had a sketch of a woman who looked vaguely like Jana Bloomlong. The cloak and hood around the face were accurate even if the rest was rough. “There’s a note from the poison maker too. I gave it to Captain Targon. He said he could get it to the queen when there was time.”

“He did. Thank you.”

“Oh, good. I couldn’t tell if he cared enough to follow through. I was lucky Doc Penderbrock was with me. For everything. He and a burly ranger came along when I questioned the paint maker who crafts poisons on the side. You may owe the ranger a kiss as payment, by the way. For scowling imposingly. The paint maker remembered a woman coming in to buy this substance a couple of weeks ago.” Frayvar waved at the list of ingredients—a recipe? “He was able to draw her. He also described her in the note and stated how many milliliters she ordered of Special Blend Number Seventeen, as he called it. He wouldn’t admit it was poison, but I got the doctor to analyze it, and he said it definitely is. Oh, and the paint maker had seen your portrait on a wanted poster and said that if you give him a kiss, he’ll go with the authorities to point out Jana personally. Apparently, she was snotty to him, so he didn’t feel bound by the dealer-client pact of secrecy that’s common in the poison business.”

Kaylina scratched her temple. “Why do all these people want me to kiss them?”

“Your allure. Also, I’m trying to conserve funds, so I didn’t have a lot to bargain with.”

“Except my lips.”

“Precisely. Among males of a certain demographic, they’re a desirable asset, I understand.” He shrugged, as if he couldn’t imagine it.

“I’ve heard that,” she murmured. “I appreciate the work you did.”

“I should hope so. The city has been in chaos. I barely managed to get out for this research. Most of the time, I had to stay in and organize while planning a couple of additions to our future dinner menu. I made a grocery list. You can help me shop.” Frayvar opened a drawer and held his list of ingredients up, the writing much tidier than on the paint maker’s.

“There are more items than there were before. Can’t you remake what we were going to serve the night of the fire?”

“I can, but that menu was revealed already. I don’t want people to think we lack creativity, so I’ve added a couple of entrées and changed up the accompaniments. I’ve also talked to local farmers at the early-season market about having fresh herbs and vegetables delivered as soon as they’re harvested. I’m thinking of altering my lamb-fig dish to use local ingredients—maybe cherries? I wasn’t impressed with the quality of the figs I was able to get. At this time of year, they have to be shipped all the way from the south.”

Kaylina had thought the lamb dish delicious, but her brother was a perfectionist. “You were talking with the local farmers while the Kar’ruk were invading the city?”

“Before. There was a brief period of time during which the streets of Port Jirador weren’t in utter chaos.”

“Other than the garishly murdered bodies that kept appearing by the canals?”

“That wasn’t utter chaos. It was a failure of the law-enforcement system, likely brought on by conditions causing understaffed personnel to be overworked.”

“It was chaos to the people who were murdered, I’m sure.”

The white-haired Doctor Penderbrock walked in, supporting a wounded ranger who gripped his ribs as he limped toward one of the cots. A few more men followed, some of their own volition, some being helped or carried.

Kaylina watched, amazed she’d survived the week with so few injuries. Luck had favored her.

A warm itching sensation came from the back of her hand. The brand.

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