The Dukes of Odwego finds Astra (secret necromancer, former nun, and displaced librarian of Qordashi) drifting ever farther from the only life she knew and deeper into a world she never expected to see. The powerful, winding Hoshikwazu river leads her, her injured best friend Traz, and the ever-enigmatic Xavai to a city that glitters with wealth but reeks of corruption. Within its walls, sour magic whispers, alliances shift like silt, and every kindness hides a price. To save the people she loves, Astra must rely on her wits, her courage, and maybe, maybe, a little necromancy.
Previously: Astra finally got help for Traz…
The doctor was in the front room, elegantly composed and sitting on one of the low stools with her son standing quietly behind her. The daughter, Astra guessed, was still in the back room with Traz.
Placing herself on the stool across from the doctor, Astra nodded at her to indicate that she was ready for anything that she had to say.
“He is very ill, but the infection is not my greatest fear. Were it just that, I would tell you to stay here and tend to him until the fever recedes, and that his recovery is all but assured. We have draughts for such things, in any case.” She sighed and flipped one of the folds of her skirt absently, her bracelets ringing softly. “But this wound has a powerful hex to it. Whatever pierced his shoulder was a weapon of great magic.” She looked directly at Astra, clearly waiting for an explanation.
Her mind careened for a moment, but only a moment. This was Traz, the mischievous boy who had spent their youth getting them both into trouble, while she had spent that time getting them out of trouble. Astra had a lot of experience lying on his behalf. She shook her head.
“If it was such a weapon, it still rides with the Yosoi who wielded it.” She held out her hands. “None of my family is magical. We have no way of sensing such things, and thought only that the spear was odd. Long and curved, and looked like it was carved out of pearl.”
The doctor’s eyes narrowed, either picking up on the lies or just analyzing the description. “I have never heard of such a weapon.”
“Nor have I ever seen one like it,” Xavai said from behind Astra.
“We have traveled far and seen much, but that is not something I recognized.” Astra shrugged in apology. “But it does not surprise me that it was magical, it looked more like a dragon’s talon than a spear.” Close enough to the truth, she thought.
“Hmmm.” The doctor looked away and flipped the folds of her skirt again for a moment. Then she stopped as if catching herself and straightened up. “Could it have been the neck horn of an snow dragon?”
Astra compelled herself to look properly shocked by the idea. “How is that even possible?”
“Dragon horns sometimes come from the south---how and why, no one asks. My guess has always been that they are scavenged off of dead carcasses, or perhaps they fall off on their own as the dragons are flying or mating. The dragons would not allow humans to possess them otherwise. Why it would hex a wound, I do not know, but Yosoi wizards are known for such spells, useful in wartime.” She glanced around uneasily. “Unfortunately, it is malicious magic, a hex of deep power. I do not have the means to treat it.”
Astra reared back. “So is he doomed, then?” Her voice broke, and she barely registered Xavai’s hand landing on her shoulder.
The doctor shifted again. She turned to her son. “Maev, get your sister and go home. Make sure to secure the doors when you get there.”
The boy gave her a distrustful look, but then scampered off to grab his sister and they quickly ran out. The doctor waited in silence for a few minutes before sighing heavily. “I was not always the doctor of a small town. I trained in Tsaka, under the wizard Tutakamo at the School of the Great Heron.” She looked at them expectantly, but Astra had only read about the famous river trading port, and knew nothing of the other names. She nodded anyway, and that was enough for the doctor, who continued. “I do know of spells, few I have ever needed to practice, that are powerful enough to fight this hex. But! The crucial aspect of any wound of this sort is to have the essence of the weapon that caused it.”
“We need the dragon horn that pierced him?” Xavai asked with consternation. “That is impossible for us to retrieve. Impossible.”
Astra’s heart sank, but the doctor tilted her head back and forth. “The essence, I said. If it was a weapon made of the horn or talons of a snow dragon, then we need something from a snow dragon as the basis of the spell, but not necessarily the same item. Unfortunately, such things are as rare as you imagine.” She sighed again and glanced at the door.
“What are you trying to say? Why did you send your children away to talk to us about this?” Astra narrowed her eyes.
The doctor lowered her voice, leaning toward them, and both Astra and Xavai mirrored the motion until they were all huddled together. “Where you aware when you came here that this town is Odwego?”
Astra glanced at Xavai, who shrugged.
The doctor frowned. “Odwego,” she repeated.
Astra nodded. “So you said.”
The doctor looked confused for the first time. “Most who travel this part of the river know of it. The warlord twins who rule this town are legendary, and they are in league with a powerful river pirate. Most here are willing to trade their freedoms and money for safety from rogue river pirates and encroachment from the inner kingdoms.”
Astra kept nodding, having no idea where this was going. It confirmed Xavai’s worries, though, which was not a pleasant realization.
“The Dukes Fari’i and Fari’o? Red Camilla the Pirate?” The doctor tried. Astra shook her head. The doctor rubbed her temples for a moment before continuing. “It did not always used to be this way. The dukes disposed of the former duke of Odwego when I was a girl---they were heroes, then.” She looked away. “But the years passed, and when I returned from Tsaka, Odwego was not the same anymore. The dukes were far more brutal and cruel. They became greedy and are hoarders, using their alliance with Red Camilla to gather precious things to their castle.” She leaned back, her eyes narrowed and her gaze intense. “Things such as the dust of ground up snow dragon horns.”
Astra looked over at Xavai who was, if anything, frowning harder.
“You called them warlords?” Astra prompted the doctor.
“For what that’s worth at this bend of the river. We are technically part of the Hira Empire which extends seventy leagues to the north, under the protection of Empress Eternal Xkai. Fari’i and Faro’o are minor lords in her court, but they rule their domain with iron fists. It is said they are Xkai’s own bastards, and Fari’o was a knight of the realm in her youth.”
Xavai stepped forward, bristling with hostility. “If they are such tyrants, they would consider your words treason, would they not?”
She gave him a weary smile. “Indeed. But I am a doctor first, and a loyal citizen second. Those are vows I took as a young woman. That is the oath I gave to Tutakamo upon my dedication to the Great Heron. I see people die too often to allow it to happen if I can prevent it.”
Astra raised her hand to silence Xavai, who stepped back at the gesture. The doctor eyed the exchange but waited for Astra to speak.
“Can we buy the powdered horn from them? Do they trade?”
At that, the doctor shrugged eloquently. “Sometimes.”
“But it is dangerous to try,” Xavai stated, not bothering to make it a question.
“Sometimes.”
Astra sighed heavily and clutched at her knees. There was no question that she was going to try, but it was a heavy weight to think of the dangers. She had managed to stay out of the politics of the superiors by dint of being very careful to do so; this was the opposite of that, essentially sticking her hand into a bee’s nest to grab honey with the hope that she didn’t get stung.
The odds were not in their favor, but Traz was too sick not to roll the dice.
The doctor picked up on her quandary. “You can forego the risk, of course,” she said, spreading her hands wide.
“But if we do not secure the dragon horn you need for the counter spell, his death is assured,” Astra finished for her.
The doctor nodded, her eyes filled with sympathy. “Yes, pilgrim. That much I can say with certainty.”
“Then we will go seek an audience with them.”
The doctor nodded in assent and then explained how to take care of Traz in his condition, which mostly amounted to “keep dribbling water and broth into his mouth, keep him wrapped in blankets despite his fever, and if he wakes up feed him egg custard for strength.” She also gave Astra a pouch of herbs and bespelled minerals to make into tea for him, and told her where to buy egg custard in the morning. Xavai handed over some coins and then she left, lugging the heavy satchel of medical supplies in her arms.
Astra sat looking at the pouch, turning it over in her hands.
“The banker gave me a fair price for the rubies,” he said, answering the question Astra had not thought to ask, back to speaking in Atyim again.
“Enough to bargain for such a treasure from the dukes?”
He shook his head. “No. And I would not like to go back to him with another jewel from the necklace. Their cut is unique and he noticed that.” He sighed.
“I must try, you know that.” She looked down at her boots. She felt weary from the travel and stress, and unsure of what needed to be done next.
“Of course. I would not expect otherwise from you,” he said gently. She ignored his gaze and squared her shoulders.
“We will take turns watching over him tonight. At sunrise, I will go and try to secure an appointment for an audience with them.”
He nodded in agreement and indicated the bed in the corner. She nodded back and got up to go and tend to Traz for a while.
It was boring to sit there and do nothing but squeeze a wet sponge into his mouth to trigger his swallowing reflex, but dehydration was their biggest concern, past the malicious hex. It seemed obvious in retrospect that a dragon’s claw would hold nefarious magic that would infect anyone it pierced, but that knowledge did not change much of anything at that point. Traz had been stabbed and now he was sick, and that was that. Astra turned that knowledge over and over in her mind as the night grew deep.
Eventually, just after sixteenth bell marking the midpoint of the night and the turnover of the clock, Xavai came in, looking rumpled and soft in the dim light of the room. Astra bit the inside of her cheek to distract herself from those thoughts, getting up to change places. She paused by the doorway to the front room. “I need to walk. I am...anxious.”
He eyed her critically for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “Please stay within the town. We do not know this countryside, or what lies in wait beyond the walls.”
“Of course,” she said, lying smoothly.
Next: Odd Prayers
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