The Clandestine Circle (10 page)

“This is the home of the Governor’s Guards and the company of City Guards that is stationed here,” Durne told her. “The barracks are there.” He pointed to a long stone building built over an undercroft used for storage. “The armory is to your right. Meals are available in the kitchen from daybreak until midnight. Don’t ask for anything after that or the head cook will put you to work scouring pans.”

Linsha crossed her arms. “Huh. I don’t do kitchen work.”

He laughed, a deep, rich sound of amusement. “Then stay on Cook’s good side. He’s a mean one with a carving knife. Captain Omat is in charge of recruits. He’ll show you to your quarters when you return and issue you a new uniform. Be prompt. We have a great deal of work to do tonight.” He slapped her on the shoulder, turned on his heel, and was gone before she could think of anything else to ask.

Linsha took a deep breath. This was happening so quickly, she hardly knew what to think. The lack of sleep didn’t help either, and neither did the heat nor the nearly eighteen hours on patrol. She felt sluggish, as if someone had smothered her in a hot, heavy cloak. She couldn’t think of more than one thing at a time, so first she decided to collect her gear and Windcatcher. Food and rest could come later.

After asking directions several times, she found her way out to the pylon gate and the road down to the city. First she stopped at the livery stable and retrieved Windcatcher and her saddle. The stable owner, seeing her uniform, insisted on chatting with her about the search for the missing sailor and the growing apprehension along the docks. Linsha said nothing about Lord Bight’s plans. She listened to the owner’s talk, nodded at the appropriate places, and paid him for the unfinished week of the mare’s care. He told her to come back anytime.

Leading the mare, she hurried to Elenor’s house. She didn’t look forward to this parting, but at least she would still be in the city and could stop to see the old lady once in a while.

Elenor felt the same way. She was both delighted for Linsha’s change of fortune and sad to see her go.

“I will miss you so. You have been such good company,” Elenor said while she helped Linsha pack. “Now, you must stay and have a quick meal with me. No, don’t argue. You look all done in. Food will do you good.”

As soon as she bustled downstairs, Linsha sat with a thump on the chair. “What am I going to do with you?” she groaned to Varia when the owl slipped out of her hiding place.

The owl didn’t seem the least bit concerned. “Is there a stable?” At Linsha’s affirmative, she nodded her head, and her small feathered “ears” popped up, a sure sign of the owl’s excitement. “I can make myself at home in the stable. No one needs to know you are with me. People here consider owls to be good luck.”

Linsha nodded wearily, glad that problem was easily solved. “We’ll meet in the woods if need be. Will you fly to Lady Karine and tell her what has happened? I won’t have time.”

“Of course.”

The lady Knight gathered her meager belongings together and loaded the bundles on her mare. Elenor had a simple meal fixed for her—cold meat, warm bread, cheese, and vegetables from the small garden.

They chatted quietly while they ate until after supper, when Elenor wrapped a few honey cakes for Linsha to take with her.

“I missed you this morning. I baked these cakes for Cobb’s order and saved some for you. I took the rest to the Dancing Bear this morning. You should have seen Cobb. My lands, he was all in a dither.”

Linsha tried to pay attention, but she was too tired. The proprietor of the Dancing Bear was often in a dither.

“One of his serving girls didn’t show up, and the other
kept running upstairs and down to take care of some sailor she had her sights set on. Cobb said the young man was sick, and he was most annoyed that the boy took ill in his inn.”

A cold chill crept through Linsha’s thoughts and brought her fully alert. “Elenor, did anyone say what was wrong with the sailor? Or where he came from?”

The older woman pursed her thin lips. “Not that I recall. Cobb was busy serving customers and taking deliveries. He barely had time to pay me.”

“Elenor,” Linsha said, jumping to her feet, “I must go. Listen carefully. Don’t go back to the Dancing Bear or anywhere near the harbor until you hear from me or the town criers that all is well.”

Elenor put her hand to her mouth as the same horrid suspicion occurred to her. “The missing sailor? Oh, you don’t think …” Her soft eyes blinked rapidly in growing concern. “But why wouldn’t Cobb tell someone?”

“I don’t know. Fear, I guess. Didn’t want to frighten off his customers. I know one patrol checked there in the afternoon and didn’t find the sailor.”

Although Elenor looked nothing like Linsha’s tall, fiery-haired grandmother, at that moment Linsha saw the same determined, self-assured, don’t-worry-about-me expression she had seen many times in Tika’s face. Elenor pressed the wrapped cakes into her hand and walked with her toward the door. “I know you must leave. Keep a sharp eye out for Lord Bight and yourself. I’ll miss our morning teas.”

“Remember what I said.”

“Of course, dear.” Elenor paused and gave her hug. “There will always be room here for you.”

Linsha waved once and mounted Windcatcher. The mare, eager for exercise, broke into a trot and maintained her pace all the way back to the Governor’s Palace. When Linsha finally reined her to a walk by the gateway into the courtyard, the mare was sweating but breathing normally.

Torches burned on the walls and at the gate, and the court seethed with activity. The sentries let Linsha pass, directing her toward the stables. She glanced around, wondering what
was happening. Horses were being saddled, and mounted guards in their red and black uniforms were forming into squads. Grooms ran back and forth carrying equipment and more torches. Could all this be for Lord Bight’s visit to the docks?

Before she reached the stable, Commander Durne intercepted her.

“Lynn, You’re late,” he growled.

“Commander, I think I know where the lost sailor might be,” she said hurriedly as she dismounted, and she told him quickly of the conversation with her landlady.

“By Takhisis!” he snapped. “If this is true, we may have to quarantine the entire inn staff. They won’t like that!” he added dryly.

At his command, a stableboy appeared and helped Linsha unload her horse. “Take her gear to her quarters. Second level. Beside Shanron,” ordered the commander. “Mount up, Lynn. We’re riding with the governor.”

He mounted his own horse, and together they rode to join Lord Bight, who sat astride a large, muscular sorrel. The governor had donned a light mail shirt and a golden cloak but had refused any armor. The only weapon he carried was his sword, a broad, double-bladed battle sword big enough to decapitate a small dragon.

His lack of weapons was not copied by his guards, Linsha observed. Two squads of six riders each fell into formation before and behind the governor’s party, and each rider was armed to the teeth with spears, short swords, and daggers. Two in each squad carried crossbows and two had axes. All wore breastplates, greaves, and helmets. A flag bearer carried the governor’s flag.

Commander Durne, with Linsha in tow, joined the governor and two other officers, and he told Lord Bight the gist of Linsha’s information.

“Good. Send two squads to the docks to prepare the ship for firing. We’ll go to this inn first,” Lord Bight told his captains. “If a body is there, it will have to be burned.”

At his signal, a horn blared and the horses sprang forward.
With a clatter of hooves and the rattle of armor, the governor and his escort trotted down the hill into the city. A bronze dusk was falling over Sanction. There was no wind to stir the dust on the roads or the smoke from a thousand dying oven fires. The smell of dung and refuse was strong. Steam and smoke from the smoldering volcano hung over the peak like brooding storm clouds and glowed in the setting sun with a fiery patina of copper.

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.