Terra Incognita

32

The twin Gods guarding the infirmary door (which now read: “Days to Governor’s Visit III”) had been busy overnight. Miracles had been performed. The four malingerers had all enjoyed sudden cures and been discharged back to their units, and Gambax had actually managed to complete a rota before heading off to some administrative meeting or other at headquarters.

The newly vacated ward was descended upon by orderlies bearing scrubbing brushes and buckets and bedding in a manner that suggested intention if not efficiency. Ruso put his head around the door frame and declared their efforts to be splendid.

Only slightly less miraculously, the splinted leg still had no inflammation. The man with the shoulder wound was still pessimistic, and the morning sick parade offered the usual coughs and stomach complaints, bad backs, sore eyes, and dodgy knees. All seemed genuine. Ruso chose not to ask if any of their owners was under the command of Audax.

He sent a junior officer with a wrecked knee hobbling out, moved his chair into the treatment room, and was reading The Varieties and Uses of the Poppy when Albanus came to tell him that Gambax had returned. Ruso put his scroll aside and braced himself for a difficult interview.

“You wanted to see me, sir.” Gambax’s expression as he appeared in the doorway of the treatment room suggested the summons was very inconvenient.

“Shut the door, Gambax.”

The man glanced back into the corridor as if hoping to find an excuse to go somewhere else, then dropped the latch.

“Will this take long, sir? I’ve got a list of-”

“That depends on how long you take to tell me the truth.”

Alarm showed in Gambax’s eyes, but only for a moment.

“When I asked you what was wrong with Doctor Thessalus, you told me you thought he was just in need of a rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is there anything you’d like to add to that?”

“No, sir.”

“No ailments that you’re aware of?”

“No, sir.”

“How long have you been giving him poppy tears?”

A blink was the only betrayal of emotion. “About three months, sir, off and on.”

“But you don’t think there’s anything wrong with him?”

“I was obeying orders. He asked me for them.”

“And you didn’t think to wonder whether this was a good idea?”

There was pause before, “I respect the doctor’s judgment, sir.”

“I see. What would you think of an orderly who shouted at a patient and threw a meal tray at him?”

Gambax’s throat moved as he swallowed. “I didn’t throw it at him, sir. I threw it on the floor.”

“Why?”

“I was trying to help him, sir.”

“What?”

“I was trying to shock him back into sanity.”

“By telling him to stop messing about and threatening not to bring his happy juice anymore?”

“It probably wasn’t a good idea, sir.”

“Cutting down his supply would have been a good idea months ago. You’re supposed to be both pharmacist and record keeper here. You’ve kept doling out powerful medicine to a man you know isn’t sick-or wasn’t when you started-and not even bothered to keep a note of it.”

When the man did not reply, he prompted, “Haven’t you?”

“He said it helped him sleep, sir.”

“At breakfast?”

Ruso sighed. The Varieties and Uses had warned against using poppy tears in the eyes, and everyone knew that too much would be fatal. But the author was only one of several authorities who recommended poppy as a miracle cure for all kinds of ailments. Many remedies included it in small doses. He often prescribed it himself to relieve pain, and it would certainly help the patient sleep. However, for a healthy man to be taking regular and heavy doses of poppy over a period of three months was surely abnormal, and Gambax must have known that. The deputy had deliberately lied to him.

In other circumstances, Ruso would have relieved him of duty. But as the sole pharmacist, Gambax was a necessary evil. And the last thing Ruso wanted was to suggest to a man in charge of dangerous medicines that he had nothing to lose.

“While the staff are sorting out the wards,” said Ruso, “I want that mess around the pharmacy table tidied up. I want everything properly and clearly labeled. I want a complete, up-to-date record of everything you’ve got there, and I want you to make a list of what gets dispensed every day. I’ll be inspecting the area and checking the records on a regular basis. In the meantime you’re not to go near Thessalus without me present. If I hear that you’ve so much as looked at barrack block two, I’ll have you charged with insubordination. Is that clear?’

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now go and get on with it.”

When he had gone Ruso stared at the cloak hanging on the back of the closed door. I respect the doctor’s judgment, indeed! Of course he did. As long as Thessalus was happily doped up and dependent on Gambax for his supply, the staff had been left to manage the infirmary in whatever way suited them best. And what had suited most of them was to sit in the office with the door barred, drinking beer.

I was trying to help him, sir. Gods above.

Still, he had Gambax on the run at last. He was making progress with the prefect’s order to sort out the medical service. Even if he was beginning to sound worryingly enthusiastic about the sort of administrative procedures he could never usually be bothered to follow himself.

Gambax had failed to shut the door. He could see movement in the corridor outside.

“Albanus, you’re lurking.”

The clerk grinned, stepped into the treatment room, and closed the door. “Could I possibly come in here for a moment, sir? It’s safer than out there.”

Ruso indicated a seat. “Tell me, Albanus,” he said, tipping back his chair so that the front legs left the ground, “have you ever heard of the torpedo fish?”

“It gives some sort of shock, sir.”

“Excellent,” said Ruso, wishing Gambax were there to hear himself proved wrong. “You haven’t by any chance got a remedy for a man whose triangles are falling apart, have you?”

“I think the only remedy for that is death, sir.”

“No doubt,” said Ruso, mildly surprised. Albanus was not in the habit of making jokes.

Seconds later it became apparent that no joke was intended. “It’s a bit of an obscure piece, sir. Plato. My father was a teacher. He made me translate it once. I can’t remember much about it, but I think when your triangles finally crumble they release your soul to fly to.. somewhere.”

“What triangles?”

“I never really understood it. But I think Plato thought everything was based on mathematics and people are made out of little triangles and the sharp edges help you digest your food.”

“Gods above,” said Ruso, scratching one ear. “No wonder people are rude about the Greeks.”

“I probably haven’t explained it terribly well, sir.”

“No, I’m sure that’s right. It explains something Doctor Thessalus said to me yesterday.”

There was a thump from the corridor, then a curse and the sound of something cumbersome being dragged along the floor. Ruso guessed the orderlies had finally realized they needed to change the mattresses before they put on the fresh bedding.

“I’ve finished sorting the records, sir,” said Albanus. “There’s lots of gaps but at least you can find what there is now.”

“Excellent,” said Ruso. “I’ll come and have a look.” He caught Albanus’s eye. “Maybe it’s better not to disturb Gambax at the moment. But I’d like you to start checking the rest of the infirmary paperwork. Find out how they’ve been placing the orders, paying the bills, and so on.”

Albanus was chewing his lower lip. “I don’t think Gambax will like me interfering in that very much, sir. He’s a bit agitated already.”

“That’s why you’ll have to do it discreetly when he’s not there. In the meantime, I want you to nip around to the gatehouses and see if you can find a guard who can remember where Doctor Thessalus was called to on the night of the murder, and what time he arrived back. I tried last night but I didn’t get very far. While you’re there, see if they’ve had any messages from Tilla. If they haven’t, I think you’d better go out and try to track her down.”

“Right-oh, sir. What do I say if they ask why I want to know about the doctor?”

“Say ‘medical reasons,’ ” said Ruso. “That usually works.” He tipped his chair forward again. “Now I suppose I’d better go and encourage the scrubbers.”