“The Keeper?”
“He’s the leader of the camp.” The man finally raised his narrowed gaze. “The toll for five entrants to Salvation is five silver coins. Bartering and trade are both allowed. If you can’t find what you need, you can try your luck in Zahdir. They only ask that no Devendran stays overnight in the streets. You’ll be arrested if you do so.”
Venn dug into a small pouch on his belt, careful not to reveal how many coins he had. “Is the toll collected every time we re-enter?” he asked.
The man shook his head as he took the fee from Venn. “If you’re in the ledger, you can come and go as you please.” He pointed to a much shorter line to the right. “Use that entrance instead, and they’ll look you up.”
“Can I gain an audience with the Keeper?”
The man blinked. “Why?”
Venn’s slight smile was a little tight. “I have some questions about the camp.”
The man frowned. “Any questions can be answered by the Keeper’s representatives in the center of camp. Now, please—move along.”
Venn tucked away his remaining coins and gathered the reins, tugging the horse forward. Vera walked beside him as they entered the camp. The roadways were made of packed dirt, with tents, carts, wagons, and crudely crafted structures lining each path. The main thoroughfare was wider than any of the branching streets, and Venn stayed on the wider road, hoping it would lead them to the camp’s center.
His skin prickled at the number of eyes on them. Men, women, and children huddled in their camps, eyeing the newcomers. Some looked wary, or even suspicious. Others looked on dully, while still others looked eager—even hopeful as they searched faces.
Finally, they reached the center of the camp. A makeshift city square was in place, and there was a serviceable fountain that many were gathered around, pulling up water by the bucketful to fill pitchers, canteens, and barrels.
There were several merchant stands, and the smell of freshly cooked rice permeated the air. There was also a tent larger than all the others that looked to be Mortisian-made; it was colorful, and seemed sturdier than anything else in the camp.
Guards were stationed around the tent, and even though they wore no uniforms, it was easy to identify them. They were the ones with jaws set, roving eyes, and a hand on their sheathed swords.
There were also scattered men and women greeting the newcomers. One woman, probably in her forties, hurried up to Venn and Vera. “Welcome to Salvation,” she said, beaming. “There are plenty of spaces to claim as your home in the rear of the camp. This is the camp center, where you’ll find the well. If you have items to sell or trade, you can also do so here. If there is a crime that needs to be reported, you can do so in the tent. If you have any questions at any time, you can find your answers here. Now, what can I help you with?”
The woman was far too happy for this gray place.
Venn cleared his throat. “We were told there was a record master who keeps track of everyone here?”
“Ah, yes, Saul. He’s in the Keeper’s tent.” The woman waved toward it. “But I’m afraid he’s a busy man with so many newcomers, so you may not be able to see him without an appointment. I can arrange that, if you’d like. What’s your name?”
“Venn Grannard.”
She nodded. “I’ll send someone to find you within two days. If you haven’t heard anything by then, please feel free to come back to the tent. Is there anything else I can answer for you?”
Vera shifted forward. “Who is the Keeper?”
“Why, he’s the camp leader. He established Salvation, and he keeps us safe by dealing with the leaders of Zahdir.”
“Yes, but who is he?” Vera pressed. “What’s his name?”
The woman seemed a little flustered by the question. “We all call him the Keeper. He prefers that.”
Everything about thisKeepermade Venn’s skin crawl. “Can I arrange an appointment with him as well?”
The woman turned her startled gaze to him. “I’m afraid that would be very difficult, as he is—understandably—even busier than the record master. But you can always petition to see him when you meet with Saul.”
It wasn’t an unexpected answer; it just wasn’t what Venn wanted to hear. He thought about telling this woman who he was—one of Princess Serene’s royal bodyguards—but he didn’t know if that would actually carry any weight here, and he also didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself—or Vera and the children. This place had his instincts screaming.
Vera asked the woman where milk might be purchased, and the woman looked relieved to have a less intense question.
While she gave quick directions, Venn’s attention swept over the square, and he noticed a sturdier wooden building with yet more guards stationed by the door. “What’s that?” he asked.
The woman followed his gaze. “Ah. That’s the detention center. Anyone who disrupts the peace of Salvation is placed there for whatever time the Keeper determines.”
Venn didn’t like that at all.
