39

Dally was overwhelmed by everything she saw. According to Alembord, the city, combined with the palatial estates atop the surrounding hills, was a day and a half’s ride from end to end. Bright flags of office and fiefdom banners hung from numerous towers and rooftops. A faint breeze began to push inland, carrying with it the pungent odors of salt and sea and drying nets. Where the roads joined, a trio of minstrels stood by the rocky intersection and played a merry tune. Two jugglers with silver bells tied to their wrists and ankles tossed colorful balls in time to the music. Even so, all the faces Dally saw held a somber cast.

“These people look very worried,” Myron said.

“Terrified, more like,” Connell replied.

The city’s main entrance was formed by a pair of massive gates, one inside the other. The broad moat separating them effectively made Port Royal an enormous island. Guards manned the first tower gate, inspecting wagons and exacting penny-sized bribes from everyone who sought entry.

Dally spotted a healer’s assistant standing somewhat removed from the guards. She instantly knew what role he played. Before the thorn barrier had cut the Three Valleys off from the world, physicians often passed through plying their salves and their talents. Most tended to be cast-offs and second-rate medics who had never managed to gain a foothold in the more competitive cities. Others had fled their fiefdoms in disgrace. A few, though, simply loved the road. They all traveled with assistants or apprentices who were dressed as this one was, in tunic and leggings with the healers’ logo on their hat and chest.

“Potions made up fresh with the finest of healing spells,” he called in a bored voice. “Potions for the faint of heart and limb. My master is known far and wide for his ability to halt the wasting disease.”

“The wasting disease,” Alembord repeated, a bit too loudly, for it turned the man’s attention their way.

He was portly and heavily jowled and showed them a greedy gleam. “What’s this I see here? Another innocent lost to the wasting ailment?”

“Innocent, yes.” Edlyn’s voice was sharp in the manner of a servant who had spent years speaking for her mistress. “Lost, certainly not.”

“And yet here you are, journeying to Port Royal in search of what my master can offer!” The apprentice was old enough to have grey in his hair. Which suggested his lack of abilities had kept him from ever gaining full healer status. “From where do you hail?”

Alembord responded in a voice that carried to the city guards who now observed them. “The hill fief of Reime. My lady is the count’s only child.”

“No doubt your local healers could do naught for her ladyship.” The apprentice rubbed his hands together. “Just the sort of case my master specializes in.”

The sergeant in charge of the gate’s squad walked over. “There’s a charge for all who seek entry into Port Royal.”

A signal must have passed between Alembord and the apprentice, for the local man declared, “Three shillings per clan, that’s the proper charge and not a penny more.”

“Three shillings is twice what we paid last visit,” Alembord protested.

“It’s gone up to five,” the sergeant snarled. “Difficult times, these.”

“Three is the rate,” the apprentice insisted.

The sergeant looked ready to argue, but Edlyn said, “Give the guard his due and let us be off. I want to see my lady bathed and rested. It’s been a long journey.” When Alembord looked ready to argue, she snapped, “Pay him!”

Alembord grumbled but did as he was told. As they were waved through the first gate, Edlyn said, “Now pay this good man his due as well.”

Alembord pretended to seethe as he reopened the purse strings. The apprentice made the coin disappear, then asked, “Do you have lodgings?”

“We’re to stay with the banker allied to the silent ones,” Edlyn said.

“If the count’s letter arrived,” Alembord groused, slipping the purse back into his pocket.

“Hush now,” Edlyn said, then addressed the apprentice. “Do you know the banker’s residence?”

“All Port Royal know of that one,” the apprentice replied. “But you’d be well advised to seek lodgings elsewhere.”

“And no doubt be gouged by some flea-bitten innkeeper,” Alembord muttered.

“That’s enough,” Edlyn said. “Good sir, we are well aware of the situation. But we have orders from our master. Will you show us the way?”

The healer’s apprentice led them past the second portcullis and through a cobblestone market. Beyond the city’s main stables, the avenue broadened and the houses became much finer. Here and there were tight patches of citified green, with carefully tended trees and splashes of summer flowers. The houses had crosshatched windows that masked their barred faces with diamond-shaped glass. Troops and armed sentries were everywhere. The city’s atmosphere was tense, muted.

The farther they moved into the city, the quieter the apprentice became. Finally he halted at an intersection and said, “This watchtower belongs to the house you seek. The entry is up ahead on your left.”

Edlyn asked, “What manner of man is he?”

“A good enough sort, by all accounts. Though I’ve never met him. He is tended by another healer.” The apprentice cast nervous glances to either side, then added, “The man and the people he represents are out of favor. That’s a dangerous thing to be in these times. You’re much better off finding another place to lay your head.”

Edlyn paid his warning no mind. “Have your physician attend us tonight.”

“Begging your pardon, miss. But the healer won’t be coming here, oh my word no. Not for gold nor diamonds neither.”

“Then give us his address.”

“First house on the main market’s eastern flank. Red door.”

“Thank you, good sir. Alembord, give the man another shilling for his troubles.”

The apprentice made the coin vanish, knuckled his forehead, and scuttled away.

Myron waited until the man was out of hearing range to say, “Perhaps we’d be better off doing as he said.”

“Nonsense,” Edlyn replied. “This location is ideal.”

“The banker has maintained his loyalty to the Ashanta even when it’s risked him everything,” Connell said. “And the whole city knows it.”

“The apprentice has just earned his coin,” Alembord said.