Thia longed to melt into the ground as dozens of eyes turned their way, but she was grateful he was the one yelling.
“Please,” he tried again. “Is anyone here a healer?”
There were a few head shakes, but most people ignored them outright.
Except one. An old woman near the front of the line beckoned them forward. They ran to her, Thia nearly crumpling with relief, until the woman spoke.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not what you seek. But come in the line with me, and you’ll get in faster.”
Thran gave their thanks as two men with a wagon full of fruit muttered angrily.
Thia stifled the urge to scream at them.
The line crawled. The closer they got, the longer it seemed to stretch, until Thia began fretfully tugging on the ends of her hair. Then, finally, they were at the gates.
“Purpose of entry?” the guard demanded.
Thran answered for them. “Me ‘n’ my daughter have come to find a healer fer her sister.” Thia forced herself not to glance over in surprise at the easy lie. She could have sworn his accent shifted, losing its precise musical quality for something more rustic.
“Any goods for sale?”
Thran shook his head. “No.”
The guard handed them a slip of parchment marked with what appeared to be a date, though it was not a system Thia recognized. It read:7th of Summerswane, 69th year of Caradoc Penhaligon, Mage King of Eldris and the Drakenmere Isles.
“You have three days,” he said in a bored voice, waving them past.
Then they were through the gate and into Cyning.
NINETEEN
THE STREETS OFCYNING WERE NARROW,FRAMED BY ROWS OFwooden buildings so overhanging that Thia feared they might crumble, the sky a sliver between. The cobbles themselves might have been pretty, but they were coated in a putrid combination of dirt, garbage, and human refuse.
People were everywhere. Funneled between buildings, there was barely space to breathe, let alone move. Elbows knocked into her, jarring her injured wrist, and a cart would have crashed into her outright had Thran not yanked her back at the last second.
“Thanks,” Thia said, pulse hammering in her throat. She straightened, brushing nervous hands down her jerkin as the cart tore down a side street, the driver bellowing warnings as people leapt out of the way of hooves and wheels. She stared at the labyrinth in front of them, overwhelmed, following the twists of buildings upward to the black tower that loomed above it all. “Now what?”
Thran peered down at her, rubbing the stubble that had come in again since they’d left Aelfort. “Knock on doors,” he suggested. “Stop people in the street.”
Thia swallowed. The thought made her cringe, but for Oskaren’s sake she didn’t see what choice they had. “Let’s split up then. We’ll cover more ground.”
Thran nodded.
“And if you find someone”—goddamn lack of phones—“um, just head back to the others. Don’t wait for me. I’ll do the same. And if you haven’t found anyone by sunset…” She didn’t want to give up. But at that point, who knew what condition Oskaren would be in. “Go back to the barn and see if I’m there with a healer. Otherwise come back and keep searching.”
To her surprise, he shook his head. “There’s a curfew, lass. Anyone out past sunset will be arrested.”
Thia blinked. “Oh.”
“Aye,” he said. “We should meet here before dark. Find an inn and continue our search at dawn.”
“Okay.”
With a mutual nod of agreement, they turned and set off in different directions.
Thia took a deep breath, steeling herself as people barreled past her, never stopping to make eye contact or apologize. She squared her shoulders, thinking of Oskaren’s shivering form to give her the courage to interrupt a stranger. She scoured the faces closest to her, trying to pick a target and decided on a family of three who had come through the outer gate. She had just opened her mouth to stop them, when someone collided with her back.
She turned, wincing. “Excuse me,” she started.
