"My friend is expecting us." Sir Gavin took a swig from his water jug. "He'll meet us inside."
"Who is he?" Vrell asked.
"A former Kingsguard soldier turned priest."
Vrell hoped for a priest of the Way. It had been so long since she had heard Arman's word.
Though the lights of Melas seemed close, hours passed before they approached the narrow bridge that crossed the mouth of the inlet and led up to a solid cast iron gate. A massive stone wall stretched along the northern shore of Arok Lake and out of Vrell's eyesight. Torches blazed from the parapet, flames mirrored on the dark water. A fortress on a moonless night.
The hollow clunking of the horses hooves on the bridge rattled Vrell's nerves after hours of sandy terrain.
A voice called out from the gate: "Who comes this way?"
"Sir Gavin Lukos and company. We're here on business with Trajen Yorbride."
"Hold."
The horses stopped. Vrell's eyes adjusted to the torchlight on the curtain wall. Achan slumped over his horse. She hoped he would wake with no memory of his strange behavior.
"Stand back for the guard," the voice from the gatehouse said. "They will exit, count your party, then follow you inside. Then the gate will close again. Agreed?"
"Aye, we agree." Sir Gavin twisted around on his horse. "Steer your mounts to the right of the bridge to make way for the guards. Do what they say and don't argue."
Vrell guided her horse as close to the right railing as possible. Why so much security just to enter Melas? What would happen if Achan woke and had another fit? Would they arrest him? Kill him? Leave him outside the gate?
A boom shook the bridge. Vrell's horse jerked. Vrell patted the animal's neck as the clanking of chains echoed over the water. The gate slid left like a curtain, baring a sliver of orange light from within. When the gate was wide enough for one man on a horse to pass, the chains stopped rattling. Hoofbeats clomped nearer as the guards approached, single file.
Three rode past Vrell. They wore long dark capes over dark armor. Vrell tensed, remembering the black knights. When the hoofbeats stopped, she glanced back. The guardsmen had circled their mounts and now faced the gate.
One of the guards called out. "There are five in the party. Move forward!"
Sir Gavin rode through the gap in the gate, pulling Achan's horse behind. Vrell clicked her tongue and her horse followed. Two guards stood on either side of the gate, swords drawn. Vrell avoided eye contact as she passed under the gatehouse. She murmured a prayer over her uneasiness.
Inside the gatehouse, the knights circled the horses and waited for Sir Caleb to pay the guard.
Beyond the gatehouse, flaming torches perched atop three-level high stone walls gave everything an orange and brown glow. Melas seemed made of mostly stone. Narrow cobbled streets split off from the gate like branches on a tree.
When Sir Caleb returned, Sir Gavin rode out from the gatehouse. Vrell followed the knights down a wide street. Lanterns hung from iron hooks high along both walls. Flickering candlelight and shadow danced over stone walls and board and batten doors. The clatter of hooves on the cobblestone drowned out the voices inside. Thick grime and cobwebs coated the occasional glass window. No point in cleaning glass if the sun never shone through, Vrell supposed.
Sir Gavin rode up to a double arch separated by a thick drum pillar. A slender, dark-haired man dressed in brown linen stood before the pillar and waved, a kind face in a dark land.
Sir Gavin dismounted. "'Tis good to see you, Trajen. We've had a time of it out there."
"Then let's put up your horses and get some food in your bellies." The man's voice was friendly and deep.
Sir Gavin passed his reins to Trajen and led Achan's horse under the right arch. Vrell followed into a stable. They left their horses and returned to the street. Sir Gavin walked with Trajen. Sir Caleb and Inko carried Achan between them. Vrell wished the men would lift Achan higher. She didn't like his feet dragging over the soiled street.
Trajen led them down several cobblestone alleys lit by hanging lanterns. Narrow, two-level stone homes lined the streets, some no more than a man's height wide. Sounds and voices reverberated between the stone walls. Vrell couldn't tell what noise came from where.
Trajen entered a small house with the number twenty-seven carved on the door. Unlike the neighbor's door-coated in broken cobwebs flecked with dead flies and moths-door twenty-seven was clean and dust-free.
Vrell entered into a tiny foyer facing a one-wall kitchen. A dog yipped incessantly. A baby cried.
"Ressa? I've found our visitors," Trajen said. "Could you come out, please?"
"A moment, Tray," a woman's voice called.
"Ressa will be able to look at his wounds," Trajen said, nodding to Achan.
"No trouble," Sir Caleb said. "We have a healer with us."
Vrell swelled at Sir Caleb's reassurance in her abilities.
A small, shaggy, black dog scurried from leg to leg, sniffing. Vrell took in the cramped space. A sideboard covered the entire left wall. Before her, a rough-hewn table and eight chairs took up the left side of the room. A linen curtain draped over a doorway behind the table. On the right side of the room, two deep couches faced each other. They had backs made of lashed sticks and straw-filled cushions. Between them on the far right wall, pillows in a variety of colors made a mound as high as the couches.
Behind the table, a hand drew the curtain aside and Ressa entered, holding a crying child on one hip. She was a tan-skinned woman, Vrell's height but much curvier. Her reddish-brown hair pulled back in a long braid. She smiled. "Hello."
The child tugged at the neck of Ressa's auburn tunic, pulling it off one shoulder. "Bite bite, Mima. Bite bite."
"Shh, Romal. Mima will feed you soon." She approached Trajen and tried to hand the child off, but he clung to her arm.
"Bite bite, Mima. Bite bite!"
Trajen peeled the child away, and Romal broke into a horrible wail. His face flushed crimson and his tongue curled in his mouth. Trajen bounced the child in his arms and offered his knuckle for sustenance. Romal pushed Trajen's hand away and craned his neck from side to side looking for his mother.
Ressa had moved to where Inko and Sir Caleb held Achan. "You have an injured man? What's happened to him?"
"I gave him hops tea," Vrell said.
Ressa's dark eyes didn't leave Achan. "Was he in pain?"
"We were having trouble controlling him." Sir Gavin shrugged off his pack. "He was hallucinating."
Ressa skirted the table and waved a lazy hand over her shoulder. "Bring him." She lifted the curtain aside.
Sir Caleb and Inko carried Achan through the narrow doorway. Vrell followed, not wanting that woman to steal her job. She ducked under the curtain into a narrow hall, stretching the length of the house. The curtain fell closed, dousing the light. Vrell ran her fingertips along the wall until a flash of candlelight revealed the silhouettes of the men ducking through a low doorway halfway back. Vrell hurried after them and stepped around another curtain.
The men settled Achan on a pallet on the floor in a room barely bigger than the straw mattress. A stool sat in the corner, topped with a water basin. A long shelf stretched over the bed and held a lone candle burning in a jar. The men left.
Ressa dropped to her knees beside Achan and set the back of her hand to his forehead. "He has no fever."
Vrell kneeled on Achan's left. "No. I bandaged his feet as best I could in the torchlight."
"My light is not much better. You're the healer?"
"Yes. I am Vrell Sparrow."
"Where'd you train, Vrell?"
Ressa's direct questions and her low, silky voice inspired Vrell to give an impressive answer. "Under the Maysens of Walden's Watch. Wayan is the apothecary. Mitt the midwife."