The Lost War, Karl Gallagher [recommended reading txt] 📗

jabbed by the rough ends of cross-pieces sticking into the hinge of the V. She’d have to trim those later but she wanted to finish the sides first. The weir was working. She saw fish bump against the finished shoreward side until they found their way through the gap of the hinge.

***

Strongarm waited until all the other patients had left before approaching the chiurgeon’s tent. “Milady?”

“Enter!” ordered Lady Burnout. “Oh, hello, Strongarm. What can I do for you today?” She waved toward the small table with chairs and tea cups, inviting him to sit down for another chat.

“Um . . . my stomach’s bothering me.”

“Onto the table, then.”

He lay down and pulled his shirt up to his sternum.

“Symptoms?”

“Diarrhea. And . . . well . . . it feels like something’s moving in there.” He traced a circle below his belly button.

Burnout laid her hands flat on the indicated area. Pressed down. Waited. Shifted her hands. “There is something in there.” A breath. “Maybe more than one.”

“Oh, God. I was hoping you’d tell me it was gas.”

“There’s a parasite. Parasites are treatable. We may have to try a few different things.”

“Okay. Um . . . I heard about what happened to Belladonna.”

“Everybody did.”

“Do you know where her . . . thing came from?”

“No.” She decided a dead patient’s confidentiality mattered less than a live one’s need to know. “She was raped on the night we arrived here. Wouldn’t say who did it. All I could tell was that it was more than one attacker.”

“Shit. She could have been caught by orcs.”

“Maybe. Ah!” Lady Burnout began digging through storage boxes tucked under her examining table. “I took a swab of her for DNA evidence, because I hadn’t noticed we’d gone anywhere. Completely forgot about it with all the excitement. Here it is.” She dropped a ziplock on the bench.

“And I took a swab of you. Because habit is powerful. Ha!” She stood up and grabbed the first one. “Now we compare.”

Strongarm sat up to watch. The two swabs had dried to almost identical orange-brown blobs. “Fuck.”

“Well.” Lady Burnout felt this was a time to say something comforting. But she couldn’t think of a thing to say.

“Belladonna was raped by orcs,” said Strongarm. “Is that how she was infected by that . . . whatever it was?”

Unable to find another answer, Burnout admitted, “It could be. All we know for sure was you were both attacked and the attackers had the same color . . . fluid.”

“And we have parasites.”

“You have a few small parasites. She had one big one. So that’s an argument it’s something different. I assumed it was a venereal infection originally. Could still be one, just parasitic rather than bacterial.”

“Shit. Orc clap.” Strongarm brooded. “I’m infected, whatever it is. How dangerous is it? Could it kill me?”

“I don’t know. Most parasites try to avoid killing their hosts. There’s ways to get rid of them.” She pulled out the emergency whiskey bottle hidden under the exam table. She considered cup sizes and just handed him the bottle.

Strongarm took a swig. “Will this kill them?”

“Not directly. It’s absorbed too soon. But if we get your blood alcohol level high enough it might get them. Let’s call this experiment one. Keep drinking.”

She wrote in her notebook. Every so often she prompted him to take another slug of whiskey.

“Crap.” Burnout put down her pen. “The hunters find worms in some of the deer they catch. I told them to burn the infected ones. Didn’t ask for samples. Maybe I should have.”

“Yeah, it’d be nice to know what the hell’s happening to me.”

“I’ll do research. And I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Thanks.”

***

Goldenrod’s original plan for holding the fish failed. The borrowed baskets tore loose from the weir or let the fish escape as she levered the baskets clear of the weir.

The fourth experiment was half a dozen net laundry bags nailed to a wooden frame. When she went back to check on it the guards had to spear a cuttlefish with its tentacles buried in the bottom bag.

The other bags were full of fish.

Goldenrod managed to get the frame to shore on her own. She needed both guards to help her haul it out of the water. Whippet and Husky were on water hauling duty. They earned a fish each helping on the steep path up the bluff.

Master Chisel’s shop was the first stop. Goldenrod kept dumping fish on him until the apprentices were forced to produce a third basket to hold them all.

That was more than his fair share. The look of disbelief on Chisel’s face made her want to rub it in. It was more fish than the apprentices could eat. Chisel would have to give some away before they spoiled—and explain where they came from.

They went to the common pavilion next. Goldenrod granted the guards two fish each. She kept the two biggest to feed House Applesmile. The rest went to the commons, feeding everyone who wasn’t gathering their own food.

If the weir keeps bringing in that much fish we’ll have some to store some for winter, Goldenrod thought.

***

“Lady Burnout? We found one of the wormy ones.”

She followed the hunter outside the wall to where the infected deer was being butchered. The intestines had been dumped in a metal basin.

A glance at the bloody guts was enough to show multiple parasites were alive in there. They quivered. The sight nauseated her. Embarrassing. She’d thought nothing could bother her that much anymore.

Poking through the mess with forceps let her catch two worms, quickly transferred to a clear plastic box. The rest were too nimble for her.

“Bring me another basin. I need to take away their hiding spots.”

She pulled out a two