Seregil’s heart skipped a beat at that, doubting the conspirators would be discussing someone’s mouser. A stop in at the Stag and Otter might be in order when he got back to the city.
He shadowed them back to the others, but their conversation had turned to the war and Phoria.
“I would wish no harm on her, of course, but it might simplify things,” Tolin observed, and he seemed to be still speaking of the queen.
Simplify what for whom? Seregil wondered. The most obvious answer was that Phoria’s untimely demise would clear the way for Elani to take the throne, and assure Reltheus’s interests if the girl wed Danos. If that were the case, and he suspected it was, then Phoria’s life might be in as much jeopardy as Klia’s.
“Enough of that. We’re too close,” Reltheus warned. Then, raising his voice a little, “Tolin, do tell me about that new kestrel of yours. You must bring her to my next hunt.”
Seregil faded into the trees and hurried back to his place beside Alec before Reltheus and the others appeared on the far side of the clearing.
Alec cracked an eyelid as he sat down and murmured, “Find what you were looking for?”
“Mmm,” Seregil replied noncommittally as he signed yes. “Just needed to stretch my legs.”
When the heat of the day had passed, the courtiers roused themselves and there were games, more shooting, and wading at the shoreline to catch shrimps and collect periwinkles and black mussels.
Alec won a few shatta and purposely lost a few, too, to avoid bad feelings. There was no question that the more time either he or Seregil spent in Elani’s presence, the more they were regarded as interlopers of low degree.
As night fell, the servants built a bonfire on the beach and everyone gathered around to eat mussels boiled in wine and spices and sing under the stars. Seregil was loaned a harp again and sang a love ballad in his lilting tenor, then called on the company to join him in more love songs and warriors’ lays, finishing with a few ballads celebrating the queen’s battles.
At last they were rowed back to the ship and sailed home across the glittering harbor. At the quay Elani bid them good night and rode off with her court.
Collecting their horses from a public stable, Alec and Seregil started for home through the backstreets of the Lower City.
“You wouldn’t mind staying at the Stag tonight, would you?” Seregil murmured.
“No, why?”
Seregil’s grin flashed pale in the starlight. “Just a bit of business, if we’re lucky.”
As they turned into Cod Street, Alec noticed a young bawd sprawled awkwardly near the open doorway of a tavern. He first supposed she was either drunk or murdered, until he saw that her eyes were wide open and that she was still breathing. He reined in and dismounted.
“What are you doing?” Seregil asked impatiently.
“She’s alive.” He touched her brow with his palm. “Like that boy we found.”
Seregil joined him and pressed two fingers against the inside of her wrist. “Her pulse is strong.”
“You there! What are you up to?” a man demanded, and Alec turned to find a blue-coated sergeant of the City Watch regarding them with obvious suspicion.
“We just found her like this,” he explained.
“Oh, pardon me, my lords,” the man said, taking in their fine clothing. Then, looking down at the woman, he shook his head. “Sakor’s Flame, another one?”
“You’ve seen this before?” asked Seregil.
The man came a bit closer, but Alec could tell he was nervous. “Mostly back away from the merchants’ streets. It’s the sleeping death, all right.”
“The what?”
“Some new sickness here around the waterfront,” the bluecoat explained, taking a step back. “We’re seeing a lot of it, here in the dog days. A person will just be walking along, then all of a sudden they stagger and go down, then just lie there. After a while, they die. Leave her. The Scavengers will see to her.”
“But she’s not dead,” said Alec.
“The Scavengers are the only ones who’ll handle these poor beggars, except for the drysians. It’s spreading, you know, though folks aren’t talking about it, on account of what could happen.”
“Quarantine,” said Seregil.
“Yes, if there are enough cases reported that it’s deemed a contagion, the whole Lower City could be cut off. And you can bet the traders don’t want that. Not on account of a few whores and their brats falling sick. Things are bad enough already. Now you two move on, and see that you wash your hands. I’ve heard it said these sick ones are unclean.”
“If that’s the case, then shouldn’t there be a lot of dead Scavengers and drysians, too?” asked Seregil.
The sergeant snorted. “The Scavengers are bred to filth. Ain’t nothing that kills them but each other. And the drysians
have their Maker to protect ’em. Go on, now. You’d best be on your way, my lords.”
Seregil swung up into the saddle and gave Alec a surreptitious wink. “Clearly, there’s nothing we can do for her.”
They rode slowly around the block, giving the sergeant and his men time to move on, then circled back. Alec carried the woman and Seregil led the horses as they took her to the little Dalnan temple where they’d taken the boy. People they passed along the way shied away from them, and some made warding signs against ill luck and sickness.
They rang the bell and, after a time, a sleepy-looking young drysian looked out, then quickly opened the gate so they could bring the woman in.
“How many of these people have you seen?” Seregil asked the drysian when they were inside.
“A boy was brought in yesterday, but I’ve heard of more,” he replied. He took the woman in his arms and led them through the temple, with its stone hearth altar carved with sheaves and fruit, to an inner room beyond. A young boy with dark brown hair and eyes lay on a straw pallet, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.
The acolyte spread a pallet for the young woman and covered her with a blanket.
“I’d like to speak with the priestess, Brother,” Alec told him.
“Of course, my lord.”
The man disappeared, and a moment later the priestess they’d spoken with before joined them.
“This one’s from one of the Hake Street houses,” she said as she bent over the stricken woman. “I’ve cured her of the usual things a few times. I suppose this is a kinder end for her than many she could have come to.”
“You’re probably right.” Alec reached into the purse at his belt and gave her two new-minted silver sesters.
The drysian took them with a weary sigh. “Maker’s Mercy on you, for your kindness and generosity.”
“How long has the boy been here?” asked Seregil.
“His mother brought him to me two days ago.”
“Do you know who he is?”
“Yes, he’s the candlewick maker’s son, Teus.”
“You handle these people without any fear, it seems. No gloves. No bird beak masks full of herbs.”
“It didn’t occur to me to do so, when the first one was brought to me,” she explained. “By the time others came, I was quite certain it was not a contagion spread by touch.”
“That’s not what the bluecoat we just met said,” Alec told her. “And some of the folk we met on the way treated us like we had plague.”
“I’m beginning to think it might be one,” she replied. “But you, young sir-you carried her with no thought of danger?”
“The same as you, Sister. We’ve encountered this before and I didn’t catch anything.”
She patted his arm. “You’ve good hearts, my lords, to stop for such a girl.”
“We’re all one under the Maker’s eye, Sister,” Alec replied.
“You’re a Dalnan?” she asked in surprise.
“Raised one.”
“Good! Not enough of us down here in the south. Those flame and moon worshipers could learn a thing or two from us. Maker’s Mercy, my lords.”
“And to you.”
They rode up through the deserted Harbor Way and through the Sea Market.
As they threaded their way through the poor neighborhood beyond, Alec turned sharply in his saddle, peering down a side street and reined his horse around.
“What is it?”