The streets were busy with evening traffic. Although the crowds quickly made way for the governor’s entourage, many people stopped and gawked at the squads passing by, for Governor Bight didn’t usually travel about the city with so many soldiers. Rumors and gossip were already spreading through the city about the strange ship and its deadly cargo, and this new development only added leaven to the rising speculation.
As soon as the riders left the city gate behind, Lord Bight motioned Linsha forward. “You know the fastest way to this inn, young woman. Take us there.”
After years in Sanction and a year in the City Guard, Linsha knew the streets of the outer city like her own bedroom at home. In short order, she led the squads to the Dancing Bear just as the stableboy was lighting the lamps by the entrance. Swiftly the guards moved to block the front door, the back door, and the small stable yard where the innkeeper kept a few horses for rent.
The door was wide open on such a sultry night, and sounds of merrymaking spilled out with the light. A few patrons came to the door to see what was going on. They took one look at Lord Bight and the soldiers and ducked back inside, yelling for the host.
Cobb came on their heels. His face was pale, and he wiped his hands on his apron and forced a wan smile. “My lord governor, how—”
“You had a sick sailor here this morning,” Lord Bight said without preamble. “Where is he now?”
The innkeeper visibly blanched. “He went back to his ship, my lord.”
“Which ship?”
“The, uh, oh… I’ve been busy, my lord. I don’t remember.”
“Call out the serving girl that cared for him,” Bight demanded in a tone that allowed no refusal.
Cobb eyed the guards with increasing nervousness. His eyes widened when he recognized Linsha among them, but he knew there was no help there. “Angelan,” he called over his shoulder. “Come out here.”
Angelan appeared, pretty, blonde, and trembling.
“Are you the one who cared for the sailor?” Lord Bight demanded. He glared down at her, and she seemed to wilt before his eyes.
The blood drained from her face. She looked at Cobb, then back at the Governor’s Guards. “I… uh, yes, sir. It’s like Cobb said, sir. He—”
“Stop dithering, girl!” Lord Bight bellowed. “Where is he?”
Angelan burst into tears. “In the back garden,” she wailed. “He’s dead.” She sagged against her employer and sobbed.
Commander Durne barked commands to three guards, who hurried into the inn.
Without another word, Lord Bight and his men waited in the gathering darkness. Cobb and Angelan remained where they were, too afraid to move without the governor’s permission. More customers gathered at the door behind Cobb or hung out the windows; pedestrians, drawn by the sight of the mounted soldiers, clustered at a discreet distance to stare.
The quiet dragged into a tension-filled silence until even the horses grew restive. Abruptly the three men returned, pushing their way through the crowd at the door.
“There’s a newly dug grave in the back, Your Excellency. They tried to conceal it under some flagstones, but we dug into it and found the body,” one guard reported.
Angelan sobbed even harder.
“Your Excellency, I—” Cobb tried to explain.
Lord Bight cut him off. “Innkeeper, you knew the City Guards were looking for this man. It was your responsibility to notify them of his whereabouts. We are trying to contain this illness before it sweeps through the city. Your lack of judgment has endangered this entire area. Now it is necessary to burn the inn. You, your servants, and anyone who had contact with the dead man will be put in quarantine at once.”
Cobb nearly choked. His hands wrung themselves into his apron. “Lord, please. Not the inn. It’s all we have.”
“Commander Durne,” the governor said flatly.
The commander slid from his horse and gestured to his guards. Smoothly, efficiently, he sent the soldiers into the inn and amid an outcry of complaints and sobs. The guards evicted the customers, closed the inn, and soon had Cobb, Angelan, another serving girl, a cook, and Cobb’s wife standing huddled in a shaking group with a few belongings in hand. The customers were gone, after giving their names to Durne’s lieutenant, and the body of the Whydah’s sailor had been exhumed, carefully wrapped in a tarp, and loaded on a horse. In moments, flames licked at the timber walls and began to rise toward the roof. The innkeeper turned away, his face stricken. The women cried harder.
Lord Bight watched impassively for several minutes, then left a squad to keep a watch on the fire so it didn’t spread and turned his horse back to the road. Pushing Cobb and his group before them, the guards followed.
Darkness was complete by the time they rode to the warehouse set aside for a quarantine hospital. Linsha was impressed by the progress already made by the City Guards and the healers. The warehouse had been emptied as ordered, and dozens of people hurried about by torchlight setting up pallets, carrying supplies, and hauling barrels of water. A makeshift kitchen sat to one side, where a large fire burned under a caldron and several women chopped vegetables for soup.
Lord Bight looked over the facilities with approval. He pointed to the kitchen. “There, innkeeper, would be a good place to ply your talents. We will need everyone’s help.”
Cobb and his family stared around at the huge area with trepidation. The crew of the Whydah was already there, looking disgruntled, as well as about a dozen other men, several women, the harbormaster’s wife, and the minotaur repair crew who had patched the freighter after the accident. The door had been roped off, and City Guards stood at the entrance.
The idea of a central healing facility and even of quarantine to fight a widespread disease was something new to Sanction. Before the Chaos War and the disappearance of magic, healers were able to stop disease with spells and enchanted potions. They never had to learn to deal with an epidemic—until their magic was gone. Since then, most epidemics had been allowed to run their course, wiping out hundreds of people, mostly because no one knew what caused them. The mystic healers trained by Goldmoon were beginning to take the place of the old sorcerers, but there were rarely enough in one place to stem a widespread contagion. Lord Bight knew all too well there were too few healers in Sanction to help the population if this strange disease spread as quickly as it appeared to. He hoped quarantine would contain the plague to a small area and to numbers his healers could cope with.
From within the warehouse came the healer, Kelian, who gestured to the newcomers to enter. The innkeeper and his companions didn’t move. In the dim light of the torches, the large space loomed over them as black and frightening as the grave, for none of them knew if they would ever come out of that warehouse alive.
“Lord, how long will we be here?” Cobb asked hesitantly.
“Until the contagion is over,” Lord Bight replied. For the first time, he looked down from his horse into the faces of the people gathering at the roped entrance to see him, and his expression softened. “I’m sorry to force this on you. It is all we know to do thus far. But I promise you that we will do everything we can to fight this sickness so we can release you as soon as possible.”
The captain of the Whydah pushed his way forward, his face red and sweating. The guards tensed for trouble.
“Lord, I ask a boon. We were removed from our ship too quickly to settle our affairs. Now I hear the Whydah is to be burned.”
Lord Bight inclined his head. “You know the reasons.”