Drika should have been used to that stillness, that waxy pale skin, but this boy wasn't like the cadavers she dissected in class. Though his wrist was cold, he had a faint pulse.
The boy gasped and began shaking so violently he almost fell out of his cot. Drika froze, but Professor Anker promptly caught him, rolled him on his side and held him down. His mother stroked his hair until it shone with grease.
The seizure finally subsided, and Mrs. Saito began choking out half-sentences between sobs: "Shouldn't have let you play so long in the water... just so much work to do... never should have let you go near those creatures... I love you so much... promise I'll never let it happen again... please just wake up."
Drika stood beside Mrs. Saito and listened. She wished she could do more to help—her heart ached seeing the woman so distraught—but protocol dictated that during visits, student-assistants could only do what their professor ordered. She placed a consoling hand on the mother's arm and didn't pull away when the woman grasped her hand and squeezed as if holding on for life.
Unmoved, Professor Anker asked, "What creatures?"
"Those fish!" Saito snapped. "They don't belong here. They're unnatural."
"I've led the research into them myself, and I can assure you they're quite natural."
Saito waved her off. "They're evil. I seen it. They hypnotize people, lure 'em in with their magic, and then they—" she whipped her hand into a fist "—snatch 'em up. Would have taken my boy, too, if I hadn't pulled him out of the water."
The professor crossed her arms, hands disappearing into the sleeves of her habit. "Mrs. Saito, you are aware the Kinkōno are small and herbivorous?"
Saito whirled around. Her eyes glinted yellow with reflected candlelight. "Don't you dare call me a fool. Explain this mark on my son!" She yanked the boy's shirt up, exposing his belly. The entire left half purpled with bruising, punctuated by a single, perfectly circular wound.
"Interesting." Professor Anker leaned closer.
Saito humphed and gave the assistant a look as if to say, Can you believe this woman?
Drika stiffened, reluctant to be drawn into the argument. She cleared her throat. "Ma'am, would you mind describing the incident?"
"Fetch my oculus," the professor interrupted.
Drika excused herself and scurried to the polished leather case sitting on the nearby kitchen table. She unlatched it, revealing silk-lined compartments and neatly-organized silver instruments. She withdrew a delicate pair of spectacles fixed with an array of lenses of varying magnifications.
"Yesterday, I was tending my fields while Guus played outside, not far from me," Mrs. Saito began.
Drika handed the oculus to Professor Anker. The professor donned it, and in the moment before she flicked the strongest lenses up, the glasses made her normally beady eyes appear huge.
"He was whooping and shouting and banging rocks with that pretend sword of his—until he wasn't. I didn't notice at first he'd gone too quiet." She faltered. "Guess I was too caught up in my work."
"And then what did you see, Mrs. Saito?" Drika's voice was gentle.
"Nothing at all. He was gone. Before I had a chance to panic, there was all this splashing. It was Guus. He screamed, and I nearly had a heart attack myself; just dropped everything and jumped in the water without thinking. Right before I reached him, he was pulled under, sucked up in some current trying to pull him out to sea, but I caught him and dragged him back to shore. He coughed up some seawater, but that was it. Never really came-to. Been like this ever since."
Drika shuddered. To see her son so close to drowning—she was too young to have kids of her own, but she'd be horrified if anything happened to her nephew. She briefly wondered if she should take up swimming lessons; it was a little ridiculous she'd moved to Ceresco without knowing how to tread water. Mrs. Saito had been brave to go after him.
"So what you're telling us is, you saw nothing," the professor said, now leaning over Guus's body and probing around the sore.
"I didn't see how they hurt him, no. But as I was swimming back to shore, I saw one of those little glowy fish flitting on its merry way, and that's when I knew what happened."
"Drika. Scalpel."
"Yes, professor."
"And a vial," Anker added. "Sounds to me like the boy fell in on his own."
"Let me tell you something, professor," Saito spat, and Drika was happy to edge out from between them. "My boy can swim. Better than most, even. Those devil-fish have kept to the city ever since they got here, but yesterday I saw one for the first time on my farm."
Anker nicked the boy's side and used the blunt end of the scalpel to squeeze blood into the vial. Drika was ready with a cotton ball and bandage.
Without looking up from her work, the professor asked, "Mrs. Saito, are you a church-going woman?"
The question caught Saito off guard. She blinked. "Can't say I've been much since my husband passed, what with the farm to take care of."
"Perhaps I should remind you of the third logical fallacy." Professor Anker looked to her assistant.
Drika stood straighter and recited, "Correlation does not imply causation."
Saito scowled. "I know my scripture."
"Then you must agree; the presence of one Kinkōno at the site of your son's accident is almost certainly coincidence."
"Coincidence? I've heard the rumors about Visstad. What are the chances people start dying in the first place those fish showed up?"
"To suggest otherwise," Anker continued, "would be unfounded, and if you plan on making any statements about your son's condition publicly..."
"Yes, I'm well aware. I won't get the peacekeepers involved." Mrs. Saito waved off the implied threat, but it was enough to deflate her anger. She sat in the only dining chair and watched the professor work. After a minute, she added quietly, "Just fix my son."
Anker drew back and sighed. She removed the spectacles, and Drika was already waiting with an open hand. "That, I'm afraid I can't do," the professor said. "I'm a biologist, not a physician."
"Why in Bristow's toenail did the College send you?"
"Because there were more pressing requests than a boy 'assaulted by magical fish.' It's unfortunate that your suppositions were unfounded. Would have been quite the discovery. For now, we can only see if anything turns up in the boy's humors. Send word if he doesn't wake within three days." Anker focused on her assistant. "Is everything packed?"
Drika nodded, but didn't move. Guus had clearly been attacked by something. Why wasn't Anker telling Mrs. Saito?
The professor angled a look at her. "You don't have anything to say?" Her tone was questioning, but Drika knew it was a command.
"Um, no ma'am." She bowed to Mrs. Saito. "We'll take our leave."
⥽⟐⥼
Outside was so bright, Drika had to shield her eyes; she'd forgotten it was still morning. Ceresco was on the east coast, near where the daystar rose out of the ocean, and she wasn't used to how intense dayrises were here.
The farmhouse had been stuffy. Now she smelled saltwater and freshly-tilled soil. They were surrounded by fields of purple flowers, the ocean to their left, the city skyline barely visible on their right. A sea breeze hissed through the flowers, whispering against her bare ankles.
"Beautiful, aren't they?" Professor Anker remarked. She'd already started down the dirt path, but stopped to wait for Drika.
The assistant caught up. "I've never seen so much purple."
"Balloonflower roots are quite useful for reducing phlegm. The college can produce a significant amount of medicine from the three acres of flowers Mrs. Saito has generously donated."
Drika felt sick that they'd taken so much and done so little. Unlike the clinics in town, the College had no set prices for services, and allowed people to offer what they could. Most patients were too poor to afford a physician, and instead promised portions of their crop yield or offered to scrub floors for a month. This also meant the College received more requests than they could fulfill. Students gained valuable experience, but professors, like Anker, often acted as if these visits were a waste of their time.
They were almost to the ferry stop when Drika built up the courage to ask, "Professor, why didn't you tell Mrs. Saito she was right?"
Anker was silent, her expression hidden by the hood that shielded her from daylight.
They finally came to where the dirt path met a country canal. Compared to city waterways, this was a glorified ditch, wide enough for two gondolas to scrape past each other. The ferry stop was marked by a hand-painted sign too faded to read.
Anker finally spoke, "As a student, you're taught to gather information, utilize it, nurture it. As an adult, you learn that some information is better left unshared."
"But isn't knowing half the story worse? It'll drive Mrs. Saito mad not knowing what's wrong with her son or how to fix him."
"Yet if I confirmed the attack, she'd incorrectly assume she knew the rest. As it is so wisely said, assumption makes fools bold."
Drika knew she was supposed to agree, but she couldn't help thinking Mrs. Saito deserved more. They finally heard splashes of a paddle in the water. The gondolier that approached them looked old and tired, with skin like a dried apricot. He tipped his wide-brimmed hat to the women and held the oar in the water to brake the boat. By the time he'd stopped in front of them, Drika had made her decision.
"Professor, if it's ok, I'd like to catch a boat to the city instead."
Anker examined her. "I suppose you're free to do so. It is a weekend."
She helped the professor board the gondola with her leather case, and then bowed as they rowed away. As soon as Drika was sure they were out of sight, she headed back to the farm.
If Anker wasn't going to do what she could for Guus, Drika would.
⥽⟐⥼
Description
[Steampunk Mystery] With the aid of an attractive young doctor, a medical student uncovers a conspiracy involving the Holy Imperial College, the Prince of Orange, and a mysterious force with a taste for blood.
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from Short Stories https://ift.tt/2NJLD4H
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