Read Online Deep Roots by Beth Cato - Free Book Online Page B

of Mama’s old rolling pins.”
    â€œThat’s just a parasol,” scoffed Tatiana. “And this isn’t Mercia. ­People are civilized here.”
    Rivka pulled the parasol shut again, her grip tightening. She had imagined how her rolling pin would meet Mr. Stout’s skull so many times. When Mr. Stout finally did die—­though not at her hand—­Rivka had been unnerved at how accurate her imagination was. The way his skull crunched. The strange, almost chemical smell it emitted.
    She still dreamed of that moment. Sometimes, she wasn’t sure if she’d call it a nightmare.
    â€œA parasol can do more than ward away the sunlight and rain,” she said quietly, and hooked it on her arm. “As for the civilization here, Tamarania likes to think well of itself, but there’s still the Arena and that bloodlust. There’s still Mr. Cody.”
    Tatiana dismissed the argument with a flick of her wrist. “That’s still not as bad as Caskentia and its fifty years of war. You don’t even see many teenaged boys there. So many are already wounded or dead.”
    â€œThere are different kinds of awful.” She hefted the parasol and walked on. Tatiana tried to act as nonchalant as always, but Rivka noted she was much more alert. Good.
    The address Tatiana had acquired led them to a redbrick building five floors high. Beyond the roof were high spires of airship-­mooring towers, some with ships attached. The wind carried a stronger scent of the sea.
    They took two flights of stairs up to a cramped hallway with mostly functional electric lights. The wooden floor griped beneath every footstep. Doors were adorned with signs of various residents and businesses, ranging from homeopath to seamstress to baker. That latter made Rivka smile—­a home baker, just like Mama . She inhaled deeply to take in the lovely, yeasty smell that had penetrated the corridor. Maybe as they left, she’d buy something.
    Tatiana knocked on the door bearing Miss Arfetta’s sign. Even her knock was clipped and commanding. The floor creaked in warning of an approach. The door cracked open.
    â€œMiss Arfetta’s Medician Shop . . . oh. It’s you two.” Broderick opened the door wide, his expression puzzled. “What are you doing here?”
    â€œWe’re potential customers.” Tatiana, short as she was, breezed inside beneath his extended arm. Rivka offered an apologetic shrug and ducked beneath his arm to follow.
    They each made formal introductions. The small room sang of fragrances. Shelves lined the walls to shoulder height and displayed jars of ingredients and poultices used in common doctoring. On a table sat a large mortar and pestle, the bowl mounded with partially ground red leaves.
    â€œMiss Arfetta is out on rounds. What did you need? I can sell you doctoring herbs, but I can’t do much more, not without her present.”
    â€œWe don’t want to talk to her. We want to talk to you.” Tatiana leaned on one hip as she gazed up at him. “We want to know more about the big gremlin.”
    â€œI’m not supposed to talk about the behemoth chimera. Trade secrets.” He said it wistfully. He wanted to talk. Good.
    â€œOkay then,” said Rivka, her arms folded across her chest. “What do you think about the creature?” The behemoth chimera. It was good to know the proper term.
    Broderick blinked. “What do I think ?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI . . . I just . . . I do my job, but . . .”
    â€œMiss Arfetta doesn’t treat you very well,” Rivka said softly.
    A flush darkened his cheeks. “She’s willing to apprentice me. I’m grateful for that. Most young medicians here give up, or have to go to Caskentia for training. But, uh. You’re Caskentian, aren’t you?”
    Her smile was wry. “I know better than to be offended every time ­people shudder