Nine k would be a fool thing to do, g the pirate scum or anybody else while a fell miasma was still hanging around. First thing was to get rid of that.

  While everybody else was in the dining hall at breakfast, she went to the stables and found a pid shovel and got to work. Surprisingly, the icy downpour and the high tide were a great help, washing away sand as she broke it free. By the time the patrols made it around to the rubbish pit side of Thornfield’s walls, it was too te to stop her.

  “What are you doing down there?” Striker, one of the fourth-years, leaned over the battlement to yell at her.

  “Healer Prime wants the fell miasma fixed so’s nobody else takes sick,” she hollered back, trading the pick for the shovel.

  “Healer Prime what? He wanted you to dig a trench?”

  “Yeah, and I guess it’s ’cuz he’s got half a brain in his head, unlike some folks standin’ up on walls in the rain, jawin’ like they got nothing else to do.” She levered a shovelful of wet sand from the trend chucked it onto the growing pile nearby. “Folks been dying, ya silt brain, so let me get my work done, howabout.”

  Striker gave the little brat an earful about how a juniht to talk to seniors. Just as he reached the most vibrant nguage, Nine dug out the st partition of sand separating the rubbish pit from the sea.

  The wave that crashed against the shore flowed down the wide trench, soaking o the knees, and poured into the pit. In a few mihe whole of the rubbish pit swirled with muddy water. Nine had to deeperench here and there, but soon, bits of food and bloated bodies were washing out to sea.

  She climbed out of the trend waved cheerfully up at Striker.

  “Job’s done! Don’t worry, I won’t tell Healer Prime you tried to hang me up talkin’ when I oughta been workin’.”

  ***

  Every close-rat khat g a miasma was harder thaing a new one. Especially when you didn’t have any old granny women around to take pity on you and help you out. Nine had seen how fast a body could die from a fever when they weren’t drinking water, and Twenty-six wasn’t drinking anything but a little of what Four kept drowning him with. Worse, the pirate was raving and seeing fell visions, which meah was running up on him right fast. The cure required a full moon, but sinine didn’t see how the pirate scum could survive until the one, she was going to have to make do with a waxing crest.

  Nine had watched an old granny woman make a cure for Pretty one spring when she caught a cough from a bad miasma, back when they were both still girls. On a full moon night, the granny had begged a red-hot coal from a fine uphill lord, then burnt a hair from Pretty, a handful of grave dirt, some sharp-smelling herbs, and a fish scale from a grass carp on it. Then she dumped the whole pile into a gourdful of water from the river.

  Brat had had to make Pretty drink the whole thing down, gagging and g and begging for no more, but three days ter, her fever had broken, and she’d opened her eyes and finally reized her twin again. A month ter, the cough was pletely gohat granny woman knew her business.

  Ni about gathering supplies as best she could within her limitations. It took two nights, but she got them all—or a close substitute. She knew river fish couldn’t live in the sea, so she found the first fish she could that washed up on the bead took one of its scales. Si was a sea fish, it only made sehat the water would have to be seawater, so she dipped a cupful of that from the stormy waves. The kit didn’t stock sharp-smelling herbs, so ook a few sprigs of dried bitters when she swiped the cup, and in a rare fit of forethought, a little cy jar with a lid, too.

  She didn’t have an uphill lord to beg a coal from like the granny women had. Grandmaster was the closest approximation of fancy pt that they had at Thornfield, so she traded with another first-year for the job of making his study fire. While she was there stoking up the embers for the day, she snuck a coal into the empty jar and hid it iightest part of her pants, uhe ces.

  The heat seeped through the pottery, and she almost fot to do a fancy court bow to Grandmaster before she rushed out. In the privacy of the corridor, she yahe jar free, whisper-cursing up a storm as she bound it up in a er of her te shirt so she could stand to hold it.

  The hair was the st part of the equation, and she shat whe back to the room. Twenty-six didn’t react to her tearing out a few of his sandy hairs—at least he didn’t gibber about it any more than he already was gibbering—but when Fot back from dinner, he threw a hissy fit.

  “Light, Nine, what is that smell?” He grimaced and stuffed his hand under his hen he caught sight of the bald patch over their roommate’s ear. “Did you tear out a handful of his hair?”

  “I’m fixing to cure the pirate scum, me.” another leaf of bitter herbs and the rest of the hair on the coal she’d taken from Grandmaster. “Twenty-six don’t care if I took a hair or two from him.”

  “That is more than two.”

  “You wao get rid a’ his fever or don’t ya?”

  “I imagine whatever made that smell is more likely to kill him ht.”

  “Go sit on your swordstaff.”

  In truth, the cure was ing aloer than Nine had expected. Almost all the ingredients were burnt to ash. Now she just had to dump them into the seawater, swirl it up, awenty-six to drink the cupful.

  ***

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Izak looked at the runt, but she was i oinking experiment. She clearly had no idea that the sound was meant to get her attention.

  The prince was as aced to servants scratg discreetly at chamber doors as he was to angry pimps thundering on portals in wh houses and shouting that some previously undiscussed time limit . But no one had e knog at their room since Izak had arrived at Thornfield.

  “Enter,” he called.

  A scowling Master Fright threw the door open. He was as impeccably dressed as always, his curled hair artfully arranged. Not a button or eyesh was out of pce, despite having takehe duties of half his fellow staff members in the past few weeks.

  “You don’t grary here, Four,” he huffed. “This isn’t some royal residend I’m not your servant asking for permission. I’m your master, and when I knock, I’m warning you to e open that door to me or else.”

  “Yes, sir,” Izak said, smoothly dipping into a bow. He gave the master a weary but hopefully ciliatory smile. “My mistake. Rest assured that iure I will do exactly as you’ve said.”

  “See to it.” Fright turo Nine, who was still on the floor, poking at that coal.

  At that angle, in the gray winter light from the archer loop, Izak saw that Fright had powdered his face to hide the dark circles under his eyes. Izak had never sunk to that level of vanity, but then again, he’d never been an aging former Thorn past his prime and far from the eai of court.

  “Nine!” Master Fright snapped. “Who flooded the rubbish pit with seawater?”

  Nine gnced away from the coal. “What rubbish pit?”

  “You know what rubbish pit. The oween Thornfield’s wall and the sea.”

  “I never heard tell of such a thing, me. You mea ’h the trine house?”

  Uhe powder, the master’s face was turning red.

  “I’ll rephrase myself.” His silky voice barely cealed the daggers of rising anger. “You flooded the rubbish pit. Tell me why immediately, or I’ll have you sced.” He kicked the runt in the backside. “A on your feet while I’m speaking to you!”

  Nine scrambled up and swept such a perfect bow that even Fright, who had been teag the first-years court manners, couldn’t find fault with her form.

  “Healer Prime didn’t want nobody else to take sick, sir, and there was bodies all in that pit.” raightened, dark eyes wide and i. “Ask Striker if you don’t believe me. He seen me w at it.”

  “He’s the witness who gave us your name.”

  “Then why didn’t he just tell you so about Healer Prime in the first pce? Am I the only soul round here who ain’t a bmed fool?” Nine sighed. “I did call him some hard names, me. Might be there’s hurt feelings.”

  “I don’t care about feelings,” Master Fright snapped. “You’ve turhe night-forsaken sea around us into a midde out there and fill that tren.”

  Nine shook her head. “’t do it without Healer Prime’s say so, sir. He doold me he don’t want no folklore nonsense in his school. He ght mad about it, him.”

  “Then we’ll just go speak to Healer Prime, and Grandmaster, too, while we’re at it.” Fright poi the door. “Now move.”

  Evidently Nine didn’t move fast enough, because Fright gave the runt another boot on the way out. Theurned his plower to Izak.

  “Sir?” the prince ventured.

  “What is that stench?” Fright pulled out a sted handkerchief and held it beh his nose.

  Izak the sm pot on the floor. “hinks burnt hair will cure Twenty-six.”

  The master studied the sick young man in the bunk. Twenty-six had psed into a period of deeper sleep, punctuated by bored breathing. With every gasp, his ribs stood out as if they were attempting to cw through his flesh.

  “Well, for the strong gods’ sake, put it out. It’s clearly not helping.” Fright mioward the door. “Ahis pce ed up. Thorns are not pigs, and I won’t have our reputation being besmirched as such.”

  It was undeniable—without Twenty-six’s strict attention to order, the room had bee a sty. Izak wasn’t the tidiest of roommates to start with. Two nights brag himself to find a dead pirate every time he came back to the room and two days kept awake by Twenty-six’s restless babbling, fidgeting, and rattling respiration didn’t make the thought of ing any more appealing.

  “Yes, sir.” Izak grabbed Nine’s spare shirt, ed it around his hand for prote, and carried the stinking, sm pot outside to dump.