The courtesan took the handkerchief from her face. “Mistress Kela came to measure her for some new nightdresses. Master Horrin sold her some rouge.” She paused to wipe her nose. “Master Kharom delivered some jewels she’d ordered from him.”
“Has she been out of the house much lately?” asked Seregil.
“To the Three Dragons with Duke Oreus one night, and the theater, and with you, of course. She went to the new play at the Crane a few nights ago, and to the Tirari last night with Duke Carnis.”
“That just leaves her regular patrons. How many does she have?”
“At the moment?” Eirual counted silently on her fingers. “Five regulars, and the occasional extra.”
Alec swallowed hard. He knew what Myrhichia was, of course, and what her trade entailed, but he didn’t spend time thinking about the details. She was his friend.
“Somewhere among all those is the one who carries this disease, or works the magic, whichever it is,” Seregil told her.
Eirual looked to Hyli. “You can go, love. If anyone questions you, tell them that she’s indisposed.”
When the girl was gone, Eirual turned to Seregil. “Will you speak to Brother Valerius for me? He doesn’t approve of me, I know, but I want the best for her.”
“I’m sure I can convince him,” Seregil assured her, patting her hand.
More tears came as Eirual looked down at Myrhichia. “I love all my girls, but she’s like a daughter to me.”
“I’ll go, Seregil. You stay with Eirual.” Alec took the older woman’s hand. “Don’t worry. We’ll do everything we can to help.”
Alec found Valerius in his library, poring over a large book by the window.
“What are you doing here at this hour?” the man asked, looking up with amused annoyance.
“It’s Myrhichia. She has the sleeping death,” Alec told him, throat tight as he finally said the words aloud.
Any levity fled the drysian’s face. “Maker’s Mercy!” He rose and fetched his herb bag from a cabinet and his staff from its place by the door. Striding from the room, he bellowed, “Zala, my horse!”
At the brothel Valerius had Eirual and Hyli remove Myrhichia’s clothing and unpin her hair; then he inspected her closely. Alec stood by the door, arms folded across his chest, gaze fixed on the carpet. He’d seen Myrhichia naked, of course, but only that one night, and now it felt strange and uncomfortable.
“No fever,” the healer muttered to himself. “No lesions. No bruising. No obvious punctures. No aroma of poisons. No discoloration of the tongue or lips… or the nails. Nothing unusual there…”
Alec heard the rustle of bedclothes as Valerius drew them up to her chin.
The drysian stood a moment in thought, scratching absently under his beard. “I need a cup of hot water.”
Alec went out and found Hyli hovering outside the door. He sent her for the water, then stepped back in and went to the bedside again. Seregil’s eyes met his; they both knew what Myrhichia’s chances were, but Eirual was watching the drysian with desperate, hope-filled eyes as he went about sorting things from his bag.
A serving boy appeared balancing a jug of hot water and a delicate tea bowl on a tray. Valerius filled the bowl, added something from a clay bottle that stained the water green against the pale glaze of the cup, then a pinch of white powder that turned it blue.
“Hold her head up for me, Alec,” Valerius said.
Her hair was warm and silky against Alec’s palm, and he had to swallow again as memories burned behind his eyelids.
“What are those?” asked Eirual.
“Zengati salts.” Valerius carefully spooned some of the liquid between the sleeping woman’s lips, then stood back, watching her closely. But Myrhichia did not stir, her face peaceful, breast gently rising and falling. She might have been truly asleep, if not for those empty grey eyes.
“Well?” Eirual demanded softly.
Ignoring her, Valerius pulled a small, three-legged clay bowl from his bag and filled it with bits from what looked like a twist of dry grass. To this he added several strands of Myrhichia’s hair and a crumb of dry mucus from the corner of her eye, then put a candle to it to start it smoldering. He held this over Myrhichia and blew the sweet smoke into her face, then set the bowl on the small table beside the bed and took up his staff, chanting softly under his breath.
And it went on like that as the stars faded outside and the first pale glow of false dawn showed beneath the velvet curtains.
Valerius finally sank into a chair beside the bed and sighed. “I’m sorry, Eirual.”
“Try something else!” she begged.
“I shall have to consult the texts.”
“You mean there’s nothing more you can do now?”
“I will send my best priests to pray for her in the meantime.”
Tears filled her dark eyes. “Pray? What good will that do?”
“If nothing else, it will cleanse her soul.”
“Because she’s a whore?” Eirual spat out. Seregil reached to embrace her but she shook his arm away. “You think this illness is some punishment? Her soul is as pure as yours, Valerius, no matter what you choose to think of us!”
“I meant nothing of the sort,” Valerius rumbled, rising to gather his things. “It’s to cleanse her of illness, if that’s possible.”
“Has it helped anyone in the Lower City?”
“Not yet,” he admitted. “I thought it might give you some comfort.”
“Keep your priests, and find some remedy!”
“As you wish.” Valerius motioned for Seregil to come with him.
“Stay with her, Alec,” he murmured as he followed the drysian out into the corridor.
“Is there somewhere we can speak?” Valerius asked, closing the door behind them.
Seregil led him down the hallway to Myrhichia’s empty chamber. Candles were burning here. The silken bed had been turned down, and the room smelled of expensive oils and incense.
The drysian scrubbed his fingers through his unruly black hair. “I didn’t expect this. Not so soon.”
Seregil raised an expectant eyebrow.
“It’s broken out in the Ring, too, in that cesspit behind the Sea Market.”
“I suppose that’s less surprising than finding it here. Those few found near the Sea Gate might have been random wandering, but now it’s more likely someone infected with it must have escaped the Lower City quarantine and headed for somewhere they thought they wouldn’t be noticed.”
Valerius nodded wearily. “This is like no disease I’ve ever seen before, Seregil, and I’m beginning to wonder if it is one at all, or some form of poisoning. There are numerous decoctions that might escape detection.”
“Why would anyone bother poisoning the poor?”
“Who knows? I want you two to look into this for me, before the Ring and this street are placed under quarantine. I need someone who can travel in the Ring without getting themselves killed. None of my people have your talent for that.”
“This isn’t exactly the best time for us, Valerius. There’s something else afoot that we’re investigating for Thero and the prince, and it can’t wait.”
“And I’ve been tasked with this by Prince Korathan himself. He considers it a matter of civic security. Sooner or later this is going to spread farther in the city, unless we find the cause and stop it. If it does spread, there will be panic. I can only give you a few days before he seals the area.”
“We can handle it,” said Alec, stepping into the room to join them. “Kepi can pass in the Ring as easily as we can. Let him do the legwork and have him see if there’s anything or anyone unusual in there.”
“Yes, that will work,” said Seregil. “And we’ll do all we can.”
“Thank you,” Valerius said gruffly.
Time was no one’s friend and they all knew it.
Kepi didn’t bat an eye at their request, just pocketed the money and left. The following day the boy showed up in the middle of an afternoon thunderstorm. He was soaked to the skin and his ragged hair was plastered down under his sodden head scarf.