"I've done this before," the man said. "Never had any problem."
The River House didn't look like much from outside, but within it was brightly lit with candles and oil lamps and the bar and tables were clean and well tended. It smelled of fresh bread and roasted fish.
"Best river bass in the city," Antal said, with a nod and a knowing look. "Trust me."
Lark had to smile. One might have thought from the way he was acting that he would be the one paying for their meals. Too late it occurred to her that Antal might have taken her invitation as something more than just a friendly gesture. She would have to tread carefully; she had no interest in a romance with the man, but neither did she wish to hurt his feelings.
As they sat at a table near the back, Antal signaled the barkeep for a pair of ales.
"So you're off to D'Raqor, eh?" Antal said, after a brief, awkward silence. "Yes. And then south to the Ofirean."
"You been there before? D'Raqor, I mean."
Lark nodded and smiled. "Many times. I've been selling in Fal'Borna lands for the better part of twenty years."
"Then I needn't tell you that the white-hairs aren't any friendlier there than they are here. In fact they might be worse."
"Yes, I-" She stopped, frowning. She could hear the gate bells ringing again. "Now what's that about?" she said, looking toward a small window by their table.
Antal shrugged. "Probably the twilight bells."
"No," Lark said, shaking her head. "They rang the twilight while we were driving our carts over here."
Antal frowned in turn. "You're certain?"
Lark nodded. After a moment she stood and walked to the door, thinking that she could hear… Yes. When she reached the doorway, she was certain of it. People were shouting, and the voices were coming from several directions.
"What do you suppose it is?" Antal asked, joining her at the door.
Lark shivered, feeling the hairs on her arms stand on edge. Something about this troubled her. "I don't know," she muttered.
"It's probably-"
She cast him a look, silencing him. "Listen!" she said. "Can you make out what they're saying?"
He closed his eyes, as if in concentration. Lark did the same. At first, she still could not make out what was being said. But gradually, as those who cried out moved closer to the river, certain words began to stand out among those that remained unintelligible.
"… Gates… Market… Fever… Healer… Eandi… Pestilence…"
Lark's eyes flew open. Antal was already watching her, looking pale and frightened.
"It can't be!" she whispered. Abruptly she was trembling, her stomach tight and sour.
"Those baskets-"
"No! It's not possible!" But she knew it was, had known all day, from the time the guard first alerted her to the possibility. Had she visited other septs with those baskets? he had asked her. And she had told him the truth: that she had. But she'd neglected to tell him all. "I never took them out of my cart in the other septs."
"What?" Antal demanded.
Lark hadn't even known that she was speaking the words out loud. "Nothing," she muttered, shaking her head. "I need to find the people who bought those baskets."
"It's too late for that," the old merchant said. "You need to get out of this city, before the Fal'Borna find you."
"But all those people-"
"They're dead already," he said, his words striking at her like a fist. "If this really is the pestilence, there's nothing you can do for them now, even if it did come from your baskets."
"We're not sick."
"No," Antal said. "We're not. What was it Kary called it? A white-hair plague? Seems he was right."
She turned to look at the man, raking both hands through her dark hair. "So, you're saying that I should run away?"
"It's all you can do." He said. "You can't help them, but you can save yourself. We'll find-"
Suddenly there were voices nearby. Antal grabbed Lark's arm and pulled her into a narrow byway not far from the tavern entrance. They pressed themselves against the building wall as a pair of uniformed Qirsi walked by.
"There's pestilence in th' city!" one of the men shouted, his voice echoing through the lanes. "Th' gates ha' been closed, an' so has th' market! Stay in yer homes! If'n ye has a fever, light two candles an' leave 'em by yer door! A healer will be along! Stay away from Eandi merchants! If'n ye bought somethin' from one, burn it now! There's pestilence in th' city. Th' gates ha' been closed…"
"How do I leave now?" Lark asked when the men were gone. "You heard them: The gates have been closed."
Antal rubbed a hand over his mouth, his eyes trained on the wall behind her. "They'll have to open them again, eventually. You have no choice but to wait them out."
"Wait them out? Where? I have no place to stay! They'll be looking for our carts! For all we know they've taken them already."
"I doubt that," Antal said. "But I take your point. Let's get back to them and see if we can't find a better place to hide. We can't be the only Eandi left in the city."
They hurried back to the river and, to their profound relief, found the horses and carts just where they'd left them. Unfortunately, while they were still on the small byway where they'd left them, they heard another pair of guards approaching.
Once again, it seemed the gods were smiling on the merchants: the guards turned off the broader avenue before reaching their alleyway. But it was clear to Lark that she couldn't evade the Fal'Borna forever. She didn't know the city well enough, and though Antal did, so long as they remained together, they would be easier to spot.
"Maybe I should just go to them," she said. "Give myself up."
Antal shook his head vehemently. "No. They'll kill you. You've been trading with the Fal'Borna long enough to know their ways. You'd be better off…" He trailed off, gazing toward the water.
"What is it?" she asked, twisting around, trying to see what he was looking at.
"I was going to say that you'd be better off throwing yourself in the river. But maybe that's not such a bad idea after all."
"The river?"
"It's deep here. Too deep to cross. But if we can stay by the river and get to the north end of the city, we might have a chance. It's still deep, but not as."
"How do you know?"
"I used to work the trading boats between here and the Ofirean. I have some knowledge of these waters." He climbed onto his cart and took up the reins. "Follow me," he said. "And try to keep your animal quiet."
Lark nodded and whispered a soothing word to Ashes before climbing into her seat and starting after the man. By this time it was growing dark, and the lanes by the quays were narrow and poorly lit. Again, though, Antal's knowledge of the city served them well. He navigated the alleys and byways confidently, and Lark surrendered all to faith and simply followed. They had no more near encounters with guards, but they could hear shouted warnings in the distance. Occasionally they also heard low conversations coining from the quays or the ships moored there, but whoever was speaking didn't seem to notice the merchants.
After some time Lark asked, "How much farther?," taking such care to keep her voice low that she wasn't even certain Antal had heard her until he swiveled in his seat to look back at her.
Before he could say anything, however, a streak of fire blazed overhead. An instant later, a second beam carved through the darkness at a different angle, and then a third. At the same time, more voices rose from the city. These were nothing like the shouted litany of the Fal'Borna soldiers. People were screaming in terror, crying out in pain.
"What is it?" Lark asked, her voice rising as well.
Antal just shook his head. Shafts of flame continued to arc above them, and a baleful orange glow began to illuminate the low clouds. Fire. The city was burning.