Everything hurt, but at least her stomach wasn't churning. She shifted and tried sitting up. It was this moment that her parched throat saw fit to remind her that she had just vomited. The burning sensation choked her.

"Water." Her voice rasped. A small cup was in her hand. Arie gulped greedily, soothing the burning so she could speak properly. "How long was I out?"

Neal hesitated. "A week."

"A week?!" Arie squeaked. How was it possible she hadn't starved. Why had she- pain stung her wrist. Her gaze was drawn to the black ribbon. More specifically, the flaming red flesh around it. It looked like someone had placed a white-hot shackle on her wrist rather than a harmless piece of cloth. The burn under the fabric had wept fluid. Which had dried and been encrusted onto the fabric. Most of the ribbon was stiff and tacky from the dried ooze. Worse yet, were the strings of black necrosis that had spread through the surrounding overly red flesh.

"I've never seen a wound like that before." Neal's words had a strange tone to them. He was asking a question without actually saying the words. While, he may not have ever seen such a wound, he would have heard about something similar.

"I think the Dark God is displeased with me."

Neal sighed and scrubbed his hands across his face. "You tried to bring him back to life."

"I tried to drag his soul back to answer for his crimes."

"Arie." He groaned as if her words physically hurt him. "You can't just-."

"They wanted me to bring back my mother to track Ark." Neal could only stare in horror. He didn't need to be told who they were. "What difference does it make, who I bring back? Why do I have to bury my mother a second time? Seems either way I choose I get labeled a necromancer. One just hurts me less. Is it really so bad that I made the choice that hurt me the least, for once?" She bit back the angry tears and swallowed down the bitter feelings. "Forget it. I got a lead anyway."

"Really?"

Arie nodded. What little energy she had was slowly seeping away. "Have you ever heard of the Smith's God's cauldron?"

Neal blinked. Whatever he had been expecting it was not this. He nodded, clearly trying to figure out where she was going with this. "Yeah, it's obscure myth here in Tortall, but I studied it at during my time at the school for magic before my squire training. It was made for Hekaja, the Carthaki Goddess of healing. It could create endless medicines for the people of Carthak. Or at least until it was stolen by her mortal lover. He was apparently a jealous man who didn't like that she spent so much time caring for the people. In the end he used it to create…" Neal's voice trailed off and he realized why this was so important. "He created poison with it."

Arie nodded. She wasn't the least bit surprised. "That's how Ark is creating this poison, and why the Gods are so interested in the outcome. They aren't particularly fond of sharing their things."

Neal snorted. "Well, there's a how, but not the where."

"Where is Duke Roger buried?"

The other healer's eyes went wide at that question. "He wasn't. No one wanted to honor him much less risk him coming back to life. So, imagine his body was burned to ash and scattered in some God forsaken place. Supposedly, my master, Sir Lady Alanna and Master Numair placed a ton of protections on the body to prevent thieves or other mages from attempting to bring that bastard back. Neither have spoken about it though."

"Damn."

"Why?"

Arie clicked her tongue. "Ark was taunting him. He implied he was set up wherever Roger was buried as a way to thumb his nose at the other mage for all the insults he endured."

Neal snorted. "Sounds like Joren."

Arie raised an eyebrow.

He waved her off. "He's prick who died while we were still squires. Made Kel's life hell when we were pages." He sighed again. "I can send a message to my master. But it likely won't get to her for a while. Even if it did, she was moved to the border to stop an outbreak there. It will take her several weeks to make it back to the capital."

Arie felt her blood grow cold. "Who's protecting the king?"

"My father, and Numair are protecting the royal family." Both were powerful mages. But Duke Braid was getting up there in years, and likely hadn't wielded any blade other than a scalpel in a long time. An uneasy feeling crept up in Arie's mind.

"How is the capital doing? Any cases?"

"None."

The odds of that seemed almost impossible. That coupled with a massive outbreak on the other side of the country. Ark was slowly stripping the king of his people. "What about training new healers and those who can identify the poison? How is that going?"

Neal winced. "The king sent a couple healers to the City of the Gods to get the Mithran Priests and masters there started on teaching, but there was an outbreak shortly before they arrived. Only the bare minimum of preparations has been done."

"What about us? Is there anyone we can spare?"

He shook his head no. Then the exhaustion that he had been fighting crept into to his features. His whole body drooped like a wilted flower. "We've been overwhelmed as it is. There have been so many fresh poisonings that we are struggling to keep up."

"How?"

He shrugged. "Several wells were poisoned. Someone poisons them again after we clean them. Now we have guards at the wells. One who can see the poison." There were half a dozen wells inside the walls. So it was that many fewer people who were able to do healing. Arie scrubbed her hands across her face. No wonder the Gods had been so insistent.

"Anything else I should know?" She prayed to the Gods there wasn't, but the way things had been going she wouldn't be surprised if there was more.

"Sir Jorrey has been detained."

"Why?" Neal looked at her like he thought she might have mold on the brain.

"You don't seem pleased."

"Cause I am not. Was he bringing in poison?"

Neal blinked at her like she had suddenly sprouted mushrooms from her nose and ears. After a bit he pulled himself together. "No, he was the one who was feeding that mob that attacked you, information on your where abouts and movements."

Arie snorted. She wasn't surprised. The knight had showed breath taking arrogance, and more than a little jealously. That they hadn't crossed paths in a while should have been a warning enough that something was off. But while Jorrey had showed her exceptional disdain, he seemed to by loyal to other nobles. Even her grandfather. She clicked her tongue. This would now limit her movement even more. There would be people set up to look for her leaving the castle gate. She was basically confined to the castle now. Or would have to leave through one of the hidden exits.

"How did you find this out?"

"We were looking into who visited our dead man. Sir Jorrey was the last to visit him."

Arie sat up straighter. "Did he kill em?"

Neal frowned. "Honestly, I don't think so. It doesn't help that he thinks you did it."

She snorted again. Of course, it couldn't be that easy. "I don't suppose I would be allowed to see him?"

The look on the knight's face was complicated. "Not right now. Lord Imrah and Sir Raoul would want to be there." To ensure she didn't off the foolish knight no doubt. Arie sighed internally, and admitted; only to herself, that that thought had been completely unfair. Both lords likely wanted to prevent death, yes, but they would also want to prevent someone from framing her too.

"Am I to assume, that while I am not under house arrest, I will be asked to remain in the castle?" Bitterness rolled over her tongue with those words.

Neal's expression was just as bitter. Though he tamped down on it faster than Arie could. "After the fire, and Jorrey's arrest, that would probably safest." For the people, for her. It was suffocating not being able to do anything, to have to hide and be protected. Arie ground her teeth in frustration. She needed to do something. At least then she wouldn't feel so useless while people were dying just a few streets down. But what could she do here? Ark's image from the dream came to mind, routing through scrolls and books. Perhaps…

"Alright, does this castle have a library?"

"Surprisingly, yes. Lord Imrah is very well read. Which you typically only find in knights who have moved to more scholarly work, like Sir Myles." Neal eyed her suspiciously. "Why?"

"Research."