The Traitor's Blade by Kevin Sands (fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

I was so happy, I gave the King’s Man a pound for his troubles, which made his eyes bulge. He left, delighted, as I looked Blossom over. She had a nasty gouge on her chest, where the rope strung across the road had hit her, and other bruises and cuts from the fall. But the groom—a new man, thankfully—said there was no permanent damage, and she’d heal well enough, given time. I stayed with her a bit, brushing her coat and sneaking her sugar from the vial in my apothecary sash, while she bobbed her head at Bridget, who marched along the stall door.

In the meantime, Isaac was supposed to be reading Master Benedict’s journals. When Sally returned to the palace, finally rested from a good night’s sleep, I suggested we all go check on him, and on Simon, too. We’d need to tell them both about the Raven, anyway.

As Blossom needed rest, I suggested we take different horses. Sally insisted we use a carriage. “If it wasn’t for Isaac,” she said, “I wouldn’t even let you two out.”

Tom and I saluted her. “Yes, ma’am,” we said, and she glared at us.

Bridget flew off into the sky as soon as the carriage started rolling, heading home to Blackthorn, no doubt. She’d have to wait for us there, because I wanted to see Isaac first, to find out what he’d discovered.

We found him in his shop, leaning heavily on a stool, a mop in hand and a soapy bucket near the counter. Judging from the water smeared on the floor, he’d managed only a few swipes before sitting back down. He tried to hide it, but he looked in terrible pain.

Sally, already in a bit of a mood due to our casual disregard for our injuries, narrowed her eyes. “What were you doing?”

“Just tidying up a little,” Isaac said.

“I told you I’d come by and help.”

“I can do it.”

“We’ll all help,” I said, and then Sally finally lost her temper.

“Sit,” she ordered, pointing at each one of us in turn. “You, too. And you—give me the mop.” She shook her head. “Boys.”

“Perhaps we should let her be,” Isaac mused.

Tom and I helped him up the stairs and, in his quarters, told him everything that had happened.

He shook his head in regret. “Too much to hope the Raven was gone, I suppose. At least you all survived.”

“Have you found anything in Master Benedict’s journals?” I asked.

“I’m sorry, no. Not that I’ve got very far. That’s something I need to talk to you about.” He sighed. “It won’t come as any secret to you that I’m not well.”

My blood went cold. Isaac saw the look on my face and patted my arm.

“I’m not ill,” he said, “in the ‘my time is drawing near’ sense. But I am in pain. It’s arthritis. I’ve had it for years. Since the plague, it’s been worse than ever.”

“I can help with that,” I said, and he nodded.

“Benedict used to make me a potion. It would be a great kindness if you could find his recipe.”

I stood. “I’ll go look for it right now.”

“Wait.” He bade me sit again. “I need to ask something of you. I told you before I locked myself away that I’d made a terrible mistake. In my desire to keep the underground library a secret, I never took on an apprentice. It’s clear, now, that I must. I need help.”

“Of course,” I said. “I’ll do what I can—”

“We both will—” Tom said.

“No.” Isaac waved us off. “Christopher, you would have made a wonderful librarian. But to care for such a collection takes an immense amount of time. You already have two masters. I doubt, especially after this week’s events, that the king will willingly let you go.

“And to stop you from pursuing life as an apothecary? Never. I know how much it means to you, and how much it meant to Benedict, too. He didn’t just leave you the shop because he loved you. He knew you would carry on his legacy with pride.

“As for you, Tom,” Isaac continued, “I trust you as I do Christopher. But do you really want a lifetime of nothing but books?”

Tom shook his head.

“So there you are. Nonetheless, I must have help. I believe God has provided, through you. What do you think about Sally?”

Tom and I looked at each other, surprised. I could hear her downstairs, singing. “To take over the library?” I said. “I think it’s a brilliant idea.”

“Are you certain? She’d have to learn many languages. She knows no Greek, and her Latin is nearly nonexistent.”

“They don’t teach such things to the girls at Cripplegate. But her French is excellent, better than mine. She’ll learn, I’m sure of it.”

“But will she want to do it?” Isaac worried. “It’s a tremendous amount of work, and responsibility. As the king’s ward, she has a life of leisure ahead of her.”

“She doesn’t want that. See the way she speaks to us walking wounded? She wants to be useful. I’m telling you, ask her.”

He called down to her. “Sally?”

She stopped singing and came up. “Did you need something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Isaac said. “Would you be willing to spend more time here, with me? I could use your help in the library. And perhaps you’d be interested in studying some Latin, or Greek?”

Her jaw dropped. “You mean it? Yes! Oh, thank you!”

She hugged him. I’d never seen anyone so happy about learning Greek.

“I’ll come whenever you like,” she said. “Every day.” And she went back downstairs, singing a merry tune.

“That was easier than I’d hoped,” Isaac said. “Though there is one thing that worries me.”

“What’s that?” I said.

“At some point, Sally is likely to want to marry, and have a family. Any suitor would have to be someone of impeccable trust.” He looked at me speculatively. “I don’t suppose you’ve ever considered…?”

Tom fell off his chair, laughing.

While Sally remained to look after Isaac, Tom and I took the carriage to Blackthorn, on