The door burst open, and Falken ran into the room. Arms wide, he gaped from the table to me. Then he saw my wounds.
“Sevarin!” He rushed to me and took my hands to gently turn my arms and expose the bleeding burns. “Oh, great Gods.” He let go of my hands but only to pick me up.
I cried out as he touched my tail.
Falken adjusted his hold, and I lifted my tail to show him the burned end. A sad length of hairless, bloody tail emerged from singed fur above it. I held it straight as I held my arms bent upward against my chest. Tears slid free of my eyes, the pain finally hitting hard.
With a ragged gasp, the King rushed me out of the room. “I need a healer!” He raced down the stairs, still shouting. “A healer! Now!”
Torli met us at the bottom of the stairs, his hand going to his mouth as he gasped. Then he turned and ran. “With me, Your Majesty! The Court Physician is this way!”
The King ran after his steward. I lolled in his arms, shock setting in. Pain had subsided into a dull ache, and I wasn't sure if that was a good thing. My mind felt foggy. All I could see wasthe King's broad chest as the world moved around us, everything else a blur. Finally, he stopped.
I lifted my head to see a bright room with rows of beds on one end and a steel table the size of a person on the other. Counters ran along the wall beside the table, and a Volper man sat at a desk against the wall across from the table. It was Zensar. He glanced up, did a double-take, and then jumped to his feet.
“Sevarin?” Zensar rushed over to peer at my wounds. “Sweet Belalta, what's happened?”
“No need to invoke the Goddess.” I panted. “Someone set a trap on my alembic.”
“This was another attempt at sabotage?” Falken's expression went from worried to furious.
“No, it was an attempt at murder.”
“What?!”
“Sire, could you lay him down on the table?” Zensar stepped back and waved at the metal table.
Falken rushed over to the table and laid me down.
I hissed. “It's cold.”
“Yes, sorry.” Zensar winced. “Metal is easier to clean. Now, let me see your forearms.”
“What happened, Sevarin?” Falken demanded. “What the fuck is an alembic?”
“It's a glass container used for distillation, Sire,” Zensar answered as he peered at my wounds. “Burns then. Burns are the worst.” He picked up a bottle of blue fluid and a cloth.
As Zensar cleaned my wounds, the cool, tingling liquid running down runnels in the table to flow out of a drain, I focused on Falken. “Someone coated my alembic in vitrarol. It's highly combustible. When I lit the burner beneath the alembic, the entire setup caught fire and exploded.”
Falken's face twitched before he shouted, “I will kill whoever did this!”
“Well, we know it wasn't Turgov or Vanre.” I grimaced and lay my head back.
Falken left me to grab a cushion from a bed and brought it back to slide under my head. “I swear I will make this court safe for you, even if I have to release every alchemist and magic-user here.”
Zensar coated my right forearm wound in salve and then wrapped it in gauze before moving to my tail. He carefully cleaned the mess of blood and burned fur, drenching it in liquid before gently brushing with a clean cloth.
“I don't want to accuse someone because of a glare, but while we were on the walk today, one of the magic-users gave me a nasty look. It was after you had turned the crowd. All the others were relieved and watching the citizens, but he was watching me.”
“Which one?” Falken leaned closer.
“I don't know his name, but he's the only human magic-user here.”
“Human?” He narrowed his eyes. “That's Theodore.” Then his face fell. “His father helped to develop the resonant enchantment loop.”
Zensar looked up. “That's right! Theodore was terribly upset when he heard the loops were responsible for spreading the rot. He declared that Master Sevarin's findings were inaccurate.”
“That explains his hatred.” I frowned. “But that doesn't automatically make—Your Majesty!” I called after Falken as he strode away. “Where are you going?”
