Even Rasim couldn't tell if his answer was laughter or sobs. He curled Kisia, smelly and sweaty and shaky as she was, into his arms, and held her as fiercely as he dared. She felt fragile, like she had lost substance in the past hours. "Only you would wonder about your underwear."
"My other underwear was very fancy," Kisia protested weakly. "And tight. This isn't either. And I don't own anything like it. And…what happened?"
He wasn't certain she wanted an answer to that, because she turned her face against his shoulder and began to cry again. "I don't feel good, Rasi."
"You were poisoned," he said hoarsely. "Desimi and Sesin saved you. She's gone to see if she can help Bayar now. Their shaman is helping him but she couldn't help both of you. So now Sesi's going to help her, if she can. You're all right. You're all right, Kees." His heart lurched. "Are you all right?"
Kisia whispered, "I must be. Sesi wouldn't have left me if I wasn't. Desi? Desimi?"
The bigger boy had gotten to his knees, his presence a bulky shadow just behind Rasim, but he shook his head as Kisia fell toward him with a hug. "No, don't, I stink—"
"Not as bad as me," she promised, and Desimi choked on a laugh as he hugged her hard. After a second he pulled Rasim into the embrace and the three of them leaned on each other until Kisia let out a croaking giggle. "Am I on a chamberpot?"
"Um. Yes."
Kisia giggled again, although it sounded more panicked than amused. "I would like to not be."
Desimi scooted to get himself under one of Kisia's arms, and Rasim put himself under the other so they could help Kisia stand. She felt much lighter than she'd been when Rasim had half-caught her falling off the throne. "Do you think," she said dizzily before her chin dropped to her chest and her weight went limp between them. Desimi grunted, then grunted again, this time at Rasim.
"Let me take her." At Rasim's reluctant nod, Desimi scooped Kisia into his arms effortlessly, then exhaled. "A bucket bath isn't going to do it this time, Rasi. Do you think they'd let us call up water from the deep earth?"
Rasim cast him a startled, approving glance, then struggled to find the words to ask the people surrounding them whether that would be all right. One of them spoke in rapid Shenryalan, then made a face indicating she knew she wasn't being understood. More slowly, carefully, she said, "Go to your tent. We'll bring a," and while the last word was totally unfamiliar, the broad roundish gesture she made along with it suggested it meant 'tub.'
Rasim said, "Thank you," and they went to their tent, Desimi carrying Kisia carefully the whole way. Someone brought a waxed leather tub in moments after they arrived.
Desimi, without ever putting Kisia down, bent his head in concentration. The water was very deep, and for once, he didn't try to brute force it upward. The earth itself would crack under the power of rising water, if the big journeyman wanted it to—he'd done it before—but this time water rose in slow droplets, gathering together just above the ground until he directed them into the tub.
Journeyman Pynda studied the slowly-filling tub, then went outside to get a burning stick from one of the fires and began to weave flame around the tub, not quite close enough to melt the wax or burn the leather. "This would be easier if I could put the tub in the fire," she muttered. "But I can take the chill off, anyway."
This time Desimi said, "Thank you," and Pynda nodded with her jaw set. Rasim wasn't sure if she'd worked any sun witchery at all since Daka had died in the Northlands, but he was grateful she chose to now. After a few minutes, she said, "Well, it's not ground temperature anymore, anyway," and nodded at Desimi, who put Kisia in it, clothes and all.
She came awake with a shocked gasp of outrage, flailed a little, then, with a cry, began to scrub herself and strip away the wrecked clothing she wore. Rasim gathered them and took them outside to clean, which drew the attention of those who weren't too focused on the shaman's tent. Water and witchery went a long way toward cleaning things easily, although he wished he had a bucket of his own to use.
Just as he wished that, and wondered if he had enough Shenryalan to ask, the girl who'd helped them before came over with not just a bucket, but a small washboard that fit inside it. She smiled crookedly and made a scrubbing motion, like she was showing him how to use the washboard. Rasim grinned back and said, "I know," as he scrubbed the clothes. Even witchery-washed stains needed extra help.
Wringing the clothes out was easier, and by that time the gathered Shenryalans were watching with open fascination. Some were visibly disturbed at such casual use of magic, and others obviously impressed with the apparent ease Rasim manipulated the water. They were not, Rasim thought, like the people earlier that day—yesterday now, he supposed—who had encouraged them to show off their abilities. This group had an altogether less friendly feel to it, but then, they were also waiting to see if Bayar lived or died. Rasim gathered Kisia's things and retreated into their tent, which felt, if not safer, at least less exposed.
Kisia was dressed in her Ilyaran clothes again, and sitting next to Desimi, who had his arm around her. Rasim stared blankly at the little tub, half full of stinking water, and wondered what the best way to get rid of it was. He could probably send it soaring through the air, but he didn't know how far away the edge of camp was and certainly didn't want to accidentally drop it on anybody if his power didn't reach far enough. He went back outside to ask, and the rider who had gotten the tub for them in the first place gestured to a couple of others, who followed Rasim in and took the tub away. He said, "Thank you," again, feeling like it was inadequate, and sat with Kisia and Desimi, all of them quietly, fearfully waiting.
It was almost dawn before a rough, relieved roar of joy rose around their tent. A few seconds later, Sesin staggered in. "Bayar's alive. He'll be all right. Their shaman got the poison out, but he had seizures. I was able to help with that. He's all right. He's sleeping now."
Rasim bent double, jagged sobs of relief ripping through him. Desimi put his arm over Rasim, too, and pulled him and Kisia closer, all three of them shaking with emotion until they simply fell asleep where they were.
* * *
Either the fear of missing something or the mouth-watering scent of a heavily-spiced stew awakened him late in the afternoon. Someone had opened the tent door, letting deep gold sunlight spill through. Rasim sat up slowly, rubbing a hand over his face. His mouth tasted like something had died in it, and he couldn't remember the last time he'd even had a drink of water.
The tent was mostly empty, although Kisia slept in a bed near its back, and Sesin was outlined in the sun's golden brilliance as she checked the other girl over. She noticed Rasim moving and smiled, then crept to his side to murmur, "She's doing well. She woke up a while ago and took some water, but went back to sleep before she ate. Here. You look ashy." She handed him a waterskin, and Rasim drained it gratefully.
"Bayar?" Even after the water, his voice croaked, but Sesin smiled again.
"Exhausted, like Kisia, but getting stronger." Her smile faltered. "The old woman, Oyun, says lucky doesn't even begin to cover it. If she hadn't been a few steps away when they were poisoned, if you and Desimi hadn't been right there, neither of them would have survived. She said that particular poison is only used when you mean it. As if you don't mean it when you poison somebody otherwise."
"Did they find who did it yet?" Part of Rasim wanted the answer to be yes. Another part of him wanted to find the culprit himself, and—
His hands clenched uselessly. Kill them. That's what his gut said. That's what Desimi would say. But killing them wouldn't solve anything and it wouldn't tell anybody why they'd been poisoned.
Sesin was shaking her head, though. "Nobody thought to wonder in the moment, and even if they had, there were hundreds, thousands, of people filing through all night. It could have been anyone. Maybe not at any time, because Oyun says the poison works fast once it touches the skin, but…"
"But there's not even any way to know whether they were darted right then or if the needles worked their way through their clothes." Rasim shook his head heavily, then made himself get up. "Is there more water?"
"And stew." Sesin rose to go outside and returned with a bowl of bright yellow stew filled with root vegetables and lentils while Rasim got another waterskin and drained it.
"Oh, Siliaria's soul, thank you. This smells amazing." He ate hungrily with a shallow-bowled spoon, and mopped up the remains with a piece of tangy flat bread that had been tucked beneath the bowl. "Where is everyone?"
"They're pretty much all in the big tent. Desimi woke up a little while ago and ate and went to see Bayar, and I've been keeping an eye on him and Kisia. Bayar and Kisia, not Desimi."
"Is he all right?" Kisia, on the other side of the tent, pushed up on one elbow and addressed Sesin. "Bayar, is he all right?" At Sesin's nod, she dropped back into the furs like she'd used up all her strength. Rasim got up to go to her side, curling one of her hands in his as he sat. She still felt thin and fragile, a little like Missio had when the delzjha had run through her. She squeezed his fingers, though, and after a moment, said, "Do you know who did it, yet?"
"Not yet." Rasim went back to the line of thought he'd had before Sesin brought him food. "But it must have been someone who was there for a while, paying attention to you. Long enough to see you and Bayar had gone to sit down. Because they didn't dare miss, right? If someone else had been hit, everybody would have gotten wary, and if they missed entirely…" He hesitated. "I don't know how common it is. It might have been their only dose."
Sesin left the tent, and came back in with more food and water as he finished speaking. "Oyun says it's made from snake venom, but that even making it is very dangerous and takes a long time. Do you think you can eat, Kisia?"
Kisia waved her free hand uncertainly, then mumbled, "Help me sit up," to Rasim, who did. Sesin sat with a bowl of the bright yellow stew, and Kisia said, "Nope. I can't eat anything that color today," with absolute conviction.
Sesin laughed and stood again with the stew bowl. "I'll see if I can find something in a different color. Drink some water, at least."
Instead, Kisia sank down in the furs, resting until Sesin came back in again with a plate of bread and melted butter to dip it in. "Here you go. Not yellow. Small bites, though. Your system has been through a lot. I'm going to go check on Bayar again, if you're all right here with Rasim?"
"We're fine," Rasim promised, and Kisia, who had sat up to sink her teeth into the flat bread, nodded. Then she un-sank her teeth and tried a much smaller bite, obviously overwhelmed by even the idea of a big bite like she'd started with. Around nibbles, she said, "But Bayar only came home a couple of days ago. If it takes a long time to make that poison, how can they have made it in since he got home?"
Rasim, speaking from experience, said, "Maybe they made it ages ago, before he was kidnapped, in case the kidnapping didn't work. Maybe it was a backup plan, and they just needed a chance. A party with a lot of people moving around is a chance. I don't understand why they poisoned you, though."
"They probably didn't." Kisia nibbled at the bread some more, but also giggled weakly at Rasim's expression. "Probably not on purpose. If you were trying to kill the king's heir, would you leave it to one chance, or would you shoot a couple of poison darts? I probably got in the way."
"You think you almost died accidentally?"
Kisia shrugged tiredly. "It makes a lot more sense than someone wanting to kill me. And if that's what's happened, Bayar is probably lucky, because if two doses had hit him I'm sure he would have died."
"That's a pretty terrible kind of luck, Kees."
"Not for Bayar." She closed her eyes and tilted over, still nibbling on the bread. "I'm so tired."
"I know. You should rest." Rasim smoothed her hair, and she gave him a tiny smile without opening her eyes. "You rest," he repeated. "I'll go try to learn everything and come back and tell you."
She laughed, much more quietly than he was used to from her. "I don't know about everything, Rasim. I think that would take even you a while."
He grinned, relieved she could tease him. "All right, enough, then, if not everything. I'll probably have solved everything by the time you wake up again."
"You'll probably have caused another international incident by the time I wake up again." Kisia smiled, yawned, and was asleep before Rasim even got up. He tucked the covers around her, then left the tent, squinting at bright, early-afternoon sunlight. Today no one was guarding their door, or guiding him where he needed to go.
It wasn't like he would get lost between the Ilyaran tent and the central one, and for a few steps, that's where Rasim thought he was going. But a thought trickled into the back of his mind, and he stepped out of the spiral pathway, holding himself still in the shadow of a smaller tent. There were so many pieces to the idea tickling his thoughts, and he was afraid if he moved, they wouldn't all come together.
The Shenryalans had this poison, made from a venom. That was part of it. It fluttered at the edge of Rasim's mind, trying to find the information it wanted to attach itself to, and after a long, long moment, it did.
Oyun had known what the power-enhancing drug was. She'd called it delzjha, and the poison, hinzjha. Wisdom-slayer, life-slayer. Rasim wondered briefly if they were derived from the same thing, but what mattered was that no one else he'd met, anywhere, had had a name for the stuff, or a name to assign to it from a description of what it did. So delzjha almost certainly came from the steppes.
Which meant someone here had provided it to the Seamaster journeyman who had died using it in the Northlands.
Rasim whispered, "Sorcery from afar," and bolted toward the central tent.