Page 73 of The Bone Season

In the attic, I applied the salve and a fresh dressing. My head was in agony. I extinguished the lamp and tucked myself in.

I slept badly for the rest of the night. Some time after dawn, I woke up and vomited, barely making it to the toilet in time.

Just a few days ago, I had been convinced I would never dreamwalk. Now I had proven I could do it several times, given the right conditions – but at what cost, I didn’t know. I had no life support.

Jaxon would be delighted. He would certainly approve of what Warden was doing – forcing me to reach my potential, regardless of my reservations. Had Nick not been there to temper him, Jaxon would likely have done the same.

I splashed my face and rubbed the stubborn pain in my temple. My hair was a greasy tangle, my stomach raw. Once I was sure I wouldn’t be sick again, I rinsed my mouth and crawled back into bed.

If this is a gift, I thought,why does it hurt as much as it does?

The bell woke me at dusk. All I wanted to do tonight was curl up tight and lick my wounds, but the oracle clearly had something to say. Still hurting, I dressed and slowly went downstairs, finding the parlour silent. Another note lay on the desk.

You have a fortnight to recover. There is a painkiller with your usual pills. If you can, research the Emim.

He was already preparing me for my next test. I took my pills, then sat and dozed by the fire, watching the mantel clock. Just before midnight, I left.

The painkiller had blunted my pounding headache. When I requested more numa, Gail handed me a dull pearl and a few tin rings.

Warden was elsewhere in the residence. I could sense him somewhere above ground level.

It was crisp outside, the air misted with rain. I went straight to the Rookery, which had returned to its usual capacity. Finding her shack deserted, I looked for Liss, imagining the worst.

‘She isn’t here,’ a voice called. ‘She’s practising at the Camera.’

Nell was standing by a fire, her dark curls in a bun on the top of her head.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Do you know when she’ll be back?’

‘Not until dawn. I’ll tell her you stopped by.’

‘Is everyone all right?’

Nell nodded. ‘I don’t think anyone got hurt this time, other than bone-grubbers.’ She stifled a harsh cough. ‘One of my friends is an anthomancer. Do you have any more of those rose petals?’

‘Not today. I’ll tell you if I get some.’

‘Thanks.’

Another voyant was overjoyed to see a pearl for the first time in years, even if it was small and flawed. He filled a mug with skilly for me and promised I could have a serving every day for a week.

For once, it was all I wanted. Forcing some of it down, I headed for the building the map named as the Townsend, the pillared sentinel of the Old Library. It was next to the Fell Theatre, where the performers apparently put on plays and masques.

The oracle sat on its steps. When he spotted the mug, he lifted an eyebrow.

‘Are you eating skilly?’

‘Apparently,’ I said. ‘Why, are you hiding a pantry somewhere?’

‘I cut a deal with a rottie. She skims a few scraps off the red-jackets’ food.’ He held out a hand, which I shook. ‘David Fitton.’

‘Paige. I assume that was an act yesterday,’ I added. ‘Nashira clearing your eyes, and all that.’

‘Surprised a voyant knows how to pretend to be something he’s not?’

‘No,’ I said truthfully. ‘You almost had me convinced.’

‘Good. If you haven’t got anything better to do, I thought I’d take you for a walk.’

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