Rakel interrupted him. “Keep it simple. Details later.”
“Fires in the alleys.” Emere knew enough to not distract her during surgery.
Cain had told him the Office of Truth would be there in two hours, but they were there in a quarter of that time. The stout man and Devadas had carried Lukan to safety, and Septima was guiding Emere through the labyrinth when she was shot.
Rakel’s eyes darted about Septima’s wounds before she clucked her tongue. Then she tied up her hair and wrapped it with the white cloth hanging from her belt. Meanwhile, Emere collapsed into one of the chairs by Rakel’s front door. Even a person as small as Septima weighed much, especially when unconscious, and he hadn’t carried anything that heavy since Arland. As he wiped away his sweat, the back of his hand came away with black ash. Rakel gestured to him.
“Help me move her to the table.”
Rakel already had her hands under Septima’s armpits, carefully avoiding her wounds. Emere grabbed her ankles. At Rakel’s nod, they hoisted Septima up to the table surface. With the two of them lifting, Septima was as light as a rag doll.
Emere watched Rakel tend to Septima. Rakel put on leather gloves, stripped Septima of her bloodied clothes, and looked closelyagain at her injuries. She dipped a clean cloth into water that had been boiled and cooled, then carefully wiped Septima’s face and wounds with it. Placing her ear on Septima’s chest, she checked her heartbeat and breathing. There were three sharp surgical knives beside her, and five or six curved needles.
“How is she?”
“First, I need to take out the bolts. But there’s nothing you can help me with just yet, so be quiet and go sit back down.”
Emere did as he was told. The medicine Rakel had given Septima must have been a strong anesthetic, as the unconscious patient wasn’t even making pained groans, her stomach rising and falling with regularity as her breathing steadied. Whenever Rakel turned to pick up a tool or a bottle of medicine, her blood-soaked apron flapped toward him.
Suddenly, Rakel stepped back and undid the cloth around her hair, wiping her sweat and Septima’s blood from her face.
“I did what I could for now. The rest is up to how lucky she is.”
“Thank you. I knew I could count on you.”
At this, she shot him a look of annoyance. “That’s what you do, isn’t it? Counting on me to do what you want.”
Emere could only apologize. “I’m sorry.”
Rakel sighed. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to snap at you. But I didn’t expect you here tonight, not like this.” Rakel tossed the cloth into a basket by the bed. “So, details now. What happened? I know there was a fire nearby since the streets are thronging with the fire watchers. Rumor has it that rebels from some provinces are responsible. Is that true?”
“No, it’s the Empire’s doing. The fire watchers are a distraction. The real business was done by legionaries from the Office of Truth.”
At the mention of the Office of Truth, Rakel glanced at a cupboard in the corner of the room. It likely hid a small altar for the Ebrian god. He had once heard that the Office of Truth arrested more Ebrians than any other provincials. It seemed that even the Empire was having trouble killing a god that only existed in the mind, since even after a dozen decades of Imperial rule, Ebrians continued to make secret offerings to their god. Rakel realized that her glance led Emere to look at the cupboard too, so she quickly turned to the patient.
“From the looks of her clothing, she’s not from that part of the city.”
“She’s from the Ministry of Intelligence. Before she was dismissed, at least.”
“You kept on going on about being unimportant, but look at you with your Ministry of Intelligence and your Office of Truth…” Rakel smirked. “But I’m glad you made it out alive. Carrying another person at that. Are you hurt at all?”
He shook his head. “We had some warning. Septima here was injured while we were running away.”
Were the stout man and Devadas safe? Emere thought of the tavern owner Lukan, motionless and expressionless throughout the attack, even while being carried on Devadas’s back.
Rakel frowned. “What are you going to do now?”
“I need you to watch over the patient for a while. I have to—”
“Absolutely not.” Rakel’s tone was so hostile that Emere flinched. “The last time you came to me for help, I did it for old times’ sake. But I’m not a woman you can order around whenever you need me. Besides, I’m an Ebrian. I have no wish to draw Truth eyes to my home. Take this woman and get out.”
“Rakel—”
“You were just like this back then. Doing whatever you wanted to do for ten years, leaving when it suited you. All for that precious ‘destiny’ of yours.”
Emere sighed. “Rakel, I am sorry. I want to make it up to you, for all I’ve—”
Rakel sprang to her feet, upsetting the tray of surgical tools next to her, which clattered to the floor. At the sound, Septima moaned and turned her head in her sleep. Rakel took a glance at her face before turning back to Emere.
