Ailith, who’d helped Terrowyn and the boy saddle new mounts, took them from her and secured them onto the back of one of the saddles. The three women mounted and rode their horses as fast as possible down the rocky mountain path.

  Ailith guessed Sergeant Ahern would be waiting with fresh mounts and supplies, and she wasn’t surprised to see him standing in the yard when they galloped up to the border station. She pulled her horse to a skidding stop and leapt off. Grabbing the saddlebags from the healer, she followed Ahern into the stable and secured them behind the saddle of the new horse Cori would ride.

  Ahern filled their water skeins and replenished their food, and within a half candlemark, they were back in Cibía, riding for all they were worth toward the Temple.

  It was dark by the time they galloped up the slight incline leading to the Temple, but Shirin must have had sentries watching the road because as they approached, the gates were pulled open, and they rode into the outer bailey without slowing their mounts.

  Three warriors assigned to the stable were waiting to take the horses. Cori handed over her reins before grabbing her bag and running into the inner court.

  Ailith and Terrowyn were both exhausted. Neither one had been off their horses other than to change mounts and relieve themselves for the entire three days. They’d slept and eaten in the saddle, but both followed Cori and waited for her instructions.

  Commander Shirin had done exactly as Ailith had instructed and had three large caldrons boiling next to the statue of the Goddess in the center of the inner bailey. When she saw Ailith and Terrowyn, she pointed to the dormitories. “You two get to bed and rest.”

  Ailith shook her head. “I need to stay and help.”

  Cori, who’d just sent two warriors to collect a table to put next to the caldrons, agreed. “Aye, I need her t’ hand me th’ herbs as none of ye’ll know what they are.” When Shirin opened her mouth to protest, Cori held up a finger and wagged it in Shirin’s face. “Ye’ll be shuttin’ yer gob now. Noble or no. I be in charge, and ye’ll do as I say.”

  The Master Healer walked up behind Cori. “How can I help? I’ll do just as you say and won’t get in the way.”

  When Cori turned and saw the maroon robes of a Master Healer, she waved the woman away. “Git on with ya. I’ve niver known a Master Healer to listen to naught I have to say.”

  “Well, this Master Healer will listen to an herbal mountain witch sooner than she’d listen to most of her colleagues. We’re wasting time. Tell me what to do.”

  The two warriors returned with a table, which they set up in the spot Cori indicated. “Fine. Healer lady, take these bags and lay out everything in ‘em on that table there. Ailith, I’ll tell ya what I need, and ya hand it to me. Do ya remember th’ herbs I taught ya as a bairn?”

  Ailith gave a single nod. “Aye.”

  Cori checked the temperature of each pot and instructed Shirin to add more wood to the fires beneath two of them. “It needs to be almost boilin’. Yer also gonna need two more kettles of cool drinkin’ water to add to th’ cups of th’ boilin’ brew when it’s ready to give to th’ sick.” She rolled up her sleeves and pointed to the Master Healer. “You. What’s yer name?”

  “Haria.”

  “Okay, then, Haria, have th’ spots started on any throats yet?”

  “Yes. A woman came to the Temple four days ago. She had spots starting yesterday morning, and she died in the afternoon.”

  “About forty, red hair, scar along her jaw, like this?” Cori ran her finger along the bottom edge of her face.”

  “Exactly.”

  Ailith glared at Shirin, who nodded, letting her know she’d spoken with the woman before she died.

  Cori continued, “And th’ Priestess? Does she have th’ spots?”

  “No.”

  “Well, thank th’ Goddess fer that. We can save her then. Ailith, give me th’ packet with th’ ginter fruit powder.” With that, Ailith began opening pouches to find the right herb and handing them to Cori when she asked.

  The healer stood at the table, accepted the bags back from Cori, tied the tops closed again, and set them on the table in case they were needed a second time.

  Cori moved from one kettle to the next, measuring out different amounts of specific herbs and pouring them into one kettle or the other. “You. Noble lady.” She pointed to Shirin, who immediately came to her side. “Ya go get three gran’ stirrin’ sticks, and you and two others stand and stir these kettles until I say stop. Ya ken?”

  Shirin, amused that the healer’s accent was exactly the same as Ailith’s, nodded. “Yes, Mistress.”

  When she heard the response, Cori’s eyes nearly popped out of her head. She mumbled to herself while measuring out the next spoonful of herbs. “Strangest bunch o’ nobles an’ healers I ever did see.”

  “I’ll get the’ ladles.” Terrowyn, who hadn’t obeyed Shirin’s order to leave either, took off at the run toward the kitchens and returned carrying three overlarge, wooden stirring spoons. Each spoon was about as tall as a twelve-turn child. She handed one to Emlyn, who was also standing by to help.

  Actually, over one hundred warriors had come to either help or watch the process. Cori called out to Shirin. “Get these fool warriors to their rooms. They shouldn’t be congregatin’ like this. Tell ‘em to wash their hands before they go, too.”

  One barked order from the Commander, and the only ones left in the courtyard were Shirin, Terrowyn, and Emlyn, who began stirring the potion in the kettles, and Haria, Ailith, and Cori, who continued mixing the herbal brews. The two Blades guarding the gate had also remained.

  Cori chuckled at how quickly the warriors had dispersed. “I wasn’t expectin’ folks to clear out so quick. We’ll need some back in a bit to begin takin’ th’ brew to th’ sick ones.”

  Stirring the latest herbs Cori had spooned into her kettle, Shirin glanced up at the healer. “Let me know how many people we’ll need and what supplies, and I’ll have them back here just as fast.”

  Cori talked as she worked. “Ye’ll need two fer every ten sick. One to hold a small pot with th’ brew and th’ other to give th’ sick a drink with a cup. Ye’ll need fresh cups fer all ten patients. Oh, and one extra pot and cup fer th’ Arch Priestess. If ya get th’ supplies and th’ people back now, I’ll give ‘em th’ instructions. Once th’ brew is mixed, it needs to be served smart quick.”

  Shirin looked at the Master Healer, who said, “Seventy-five sick at last count. You’ll need sixteen warriors to do as Mistress Cori asks.”

  Cori chuckled again and mumbled, “Mistress Cori. I niver.”

  Handing yet another bag of herbs to the healer, Ailith smiled, “Cori, when ya heal these people, yer name’ll be known as th’ woman what saved th’ Temple of th’ Daughters of Elyon fer a very long time.”

  Blushing slightly, Cori accepted the bag and pushed her spoon down into its depths. “It’ll be enough that we got th’ disease stopped here.” She looked up at Haria. “I hope. Has anyone in th’ city shown any of th’ symptoms?”

  Haria shook her head. “Not that we’ve heard, no. As soon as I arrived, I ordered all of the Blades in the city recalled, then had them shut and bar the gates and raise the warning flag. Hopefully, that woman who brought the disease didn’t stop anywhere else on her way here.”

  “Aye, I don’t have enough herbs fer an entire city.” Cori walked to each kettle, bent over them one by one, and dipped out a bit of potion with a spoon she produced from deep in her tunic pocket. Each time, she put it to her lips and carefully sipped the hot brew.

  Shirin glanced over at Terrowyn, who was stirring her brew with conviction. “And you, Lead Guardian Keavey Terrowyn, will be answering to me for disobeying a direct order to go and rest.”

  A warrior of few words, Terrowyn just smiled at the Commander.

  Ailith knew it was an idle threat. She’d heard that the irascible Keavey Terrowyn had been a shiv at the same time as Shirin, and the two were good friends who often shared the same bed when the mood struck.

  “Dina,” Shirin called out to one of the gate guards who came trotting over. “Tell Prime Geller to report to me.”

  When Geller arrived, Shirin motioned her over to her kettle. “Assign sixteen warriors to report to me. Tell them to stop in the kitchens first and grab one small pot and ten cups for every two of them. And one extra pot and cup.” At Geller’s confused look, Shirin stopped, thought about what she’d said, and clarified, “They’ll be going out in pairs. Each pair will be seeing to ten patients. They’ll need one pot and then a fresh cup for each patient.”

  Geller grinned, “Well, why didn’t ya just say that to begin with?”

  Cori added, “And when ya come back from th’ kitchen, bring four ladles with ya.”

  Geller nodded and pulled on her bangs, “Aye, Mistress.”

  Cori shook her head and smiled to herself as Geller headed off to the dormitory to grab her sixteen recruits. Before long, a line of eight pairs of warriors waited in front of the first kettle. To everyone’s surprise but Ailith, Cori handed a ladle to each stirrer and had the pairs stop at each kettle where Shirin, Terrowyn, and Emlyn ladled one-quarter of a ladleful of the contents from their kettles into the waiting warriors’ pots.

  She then had them stop by one of the kettles with the cool water, where the Master Healer waited to ladle a half measure in with the brew. “Now, ya go to yer ten, and ya make each one drink a full cup of th’ brew. Then ya go back to th’ kitchen, wash yer hands, get ten clean cups, and bring yerselves back here fer another round. And make sure ya don’t touch yer mouth, nose, or eyes while yer workin’. Ya ken?”

  All the warriors nodded, tugged their bangs, and said in unison, “Yes, Mistress.” When the teams had departed for the infirmary, Cori turned to the Master Healer. “Now, you an’ me, we’ll go see to th’ Arch Priestess.”

  The healer picked up the last bowl on the table. “One question, if you don’t mind, Mistress Cori.”

  “Ach. They’s no Mistress Cori around here. Just plain, Cori.”

  The healer smiled and nodded, and Ailith thought the smile transformed the woman’s face from dour and worried to someone who, when not battling a severe illness, knew how to laugh and enjoy life whenever the mood struck.

  Haria pointed to each kettle, “Would you tell me why you had to put a different combination of herbs into each kettle if you knew you were going to combine them at the end?”

  “Well, I got th’ recipe from me granny, who got it from her granny. Me granny thought maybe it were because one herb affects every other herb it comes into contact with in a special way, and maybe ye don’t want th’ herbs mixed until th’ last minute, so th’ change takes place right before ya give th’ brew to th’ patient. Does that make sense to ya?”

  Haria raised her brows and nodded, “Absolutely. I’m always amazed at the wisdom we’ve lost by not listening to the herb witches who’ve studied herbal remedies for generation upon generation and have passed them down to their children and their children’s children.” The two women filled their pot, grabbed a cup, and headed for Sábria’s room.

  Shirin beckoned Ailith over and handed her the stirring stick. When Ailith took it, the Commander hurried after them.

  Eighteen

  Sábria opened her eyes to a darkened bedroom. Shirin was asleep in a second bed that shouldn’t have been in the room, and Haria dozed in the cushioned wingback chair that was usually kept in the drawing room. A third woman, a peasant by the looks of her clothes, sat in another chair with her head on her hand, watching her.

  The woman sat forward, and a smile lit her face. She put a finger to her lips and indicated Shirin and Haria. Her chair was right next to Sábria’s bed, and the woman shifted over so she was close enough to whisper without waking the other two. “It’s right glad I am to see ya open yer eyes. We need to be quiet, though, because yer friends haven’t slept more’n a few candlemarks at a time since ya took sick.”

  Sábria remembered feeling ill early that morning but didn’t understand what the woman meant when she said Shirin and Haria hadn’t slept. She had vague memories of nightmares where she was fighting with Shirin and strange shapes dove at her and sat on her chest, cutting off her breath and holding her down.

  “Ach. I can see ya don’t remember much. That’s normal with th’ Deathbell. Ya were one sick woman fer nearly a sevenday.” Sábria jerked up and opened her mouth to object, but the woman held her finger to her lips again. “It’s all right. Yer better now.”

  “Who are you?” Even though Sábria tried to speak quietly, the words came out as a harsh croak that woke both Shirin and Haria.

  Shirin rolled out of bed so fast her foot slipped on the tile floor, and she almost ended up falling onto her back. She scrambled up and hovered over Sábria’s bed. “You’re awake!” Tears filled her eyes and slipped out onto her cheeks. She covered her face and turned away, not wanting to alarm her friend, who was as pale as a ghost.

  Haria, too, had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling the most beautiful smile Sábria had ever seen from the healer.

  The only person who didn’t seem overwhelmed with emotions was the peasant, so she repeated her earlier question. “Who are you, and what is going on?”

  Haria answered before the woman could. “This, my dear Sábria, is the woman who saved your life and the lives of eighty Blades. There’s no doubt in my mind every Blade in the Temple would have eventually died if it hadn’t been for my friend, Cori Lesfur, here.” She rested her hands on Cori’s shoulders and gave a gentle squeeze.

  Cori picked up a cup of herbal-infused tea she’d prepared earlier and handed it to Sábria. “Here ya go. I know yer confused and yer throat’s parched. This brew will set ya right. Ya won’t remember bein’ sick, but yer mind will start to clear a bit.”

  Grateful to the other women for taking Sábria’s attention away from her, Shirin got herself under control, wiped her cheeks with the edge of the bed sheet, and turned to face them again. “Ailith recognized your symptoms as the same illness that took her family and village. She and Terro rode to the Blacktip Mountains and asked Mistress Cori if she’d come help because, as far as we know, she’s the only healer in any kingdom who can cure the disease.”

  Haria held up a finger. “Not anymore. Cori and I have been working together to document the symptoms and the cure, and I intend to have it copied and sent far and wide so no one else can weaponize the disease.”

  “Weaponize the—” Sábria sat bolt upright again and would have spilled her drink if Cori hadn’t anticipated the move and snatched the glass from her hand. She was shocked when the woman, a peasant, upbraided both the Master Healer and the Commander in a tone that brooked no disobedience.

  “Here, now, you two, stop that. Didn’t I tell ya she’ll need to rest when she wakes up, and here ya go flappin’ yer jaws and upsettin’ her!” Cori put her hand on the back of Sábria’s head and held the cup to her lips. “Here. Drink this down, and no arguin’ with me, noble lady. I’m th’ one in charge, and ye’ll listen to me and do as I say. Ya ken?”

  Sábria drank as she was told and stared at Shirin and Haria, who were grinning like fools. Like a curtain slowly lowering on a stage, her mind began to get fuzzy. “You drugged me?”

  The peasant healer smiled, “Yup.”

  As she drifted off to sleep, she smiled slightly as the thought meandered across her brain that the woman reminded her a lot of their newest shiv, Ailith. Her words were slurred when she muttered, “Goddess, bless me. There are two of them.”

  Shirin heard her and knew exactly what she meant. She looked fondly at the woman who had, indeed, saved the Daughters of Elyon. At this Temple, anyway. There were thirty other subordinate Temples scattered across the empire, and the Goddess would have no doubt promoted one of the High Priestesses to become Arch Priestess and rebuild what had been lost here. But thanks to Ailith and Cori, that wasn’t going to happen.

  A fortnight later, Terrowyn waved across the border as Cori started back to her mountain home. She’d liked the woman and admired her strength, and though she’d never thought it possible, she decided she’d miss listening to the healer ordering Sábria, Shirin, and Haria around.

  Sábria had given Terrowyn permission to stop at her family’s horse breeding farm halfway between Dreyutha and Sarlogne, and as she turned her horse to begin her journey, she realized she was looking forward to seeing her brother and his wife and her ten rambunctious nieces and nephews.

  She was glad to get away from the three shivs on deadnight for a while, too. It was a lot of work keeping track of them and making sure they were safe, even though they had no idea she followed one or the other throughout the long nights as they patrolled the streets.

  She worried about Ghost, though. Even though the skelli knew Geller by sight, Terrowyn wasn’t sure she’d take food from her. When the Master Healer had ordered the gates closed during the outbreak of the Deathbell disease, Terrowyn hadn’t been able to get out to feed her little skelli, and the chit had lost all the weight she’d gained over the past couple of turns. Granted, if you hadn’t known her before, she still would have looked like a skeleton, but Terrowyn had been making sure she had some meat on her bones over the last turn, so she at least had a few extra pounds on her when the gates had locked them all inside the Temple.

  She almost bypassed the turnoff to her family home, worried that if she didn’t return right away, Ghost would go hungry again. She reminded herself that Geller promised to find her and feed her, and with that thought foremost in her mind, she turned her mount east and rode for her brother’s home.

  Nineteen

  Geller had assumed more than just the care of Ghost while Terrowyn was gone. She’d also taken over supervising her squad, a role she was accustomed to since she’d been a Senior Guardian for twelve turns before she became Prime. Since all of the shivs were doing fairly well, she’d settled in to finish some administrative duties that she’d put off for a few days.