Page 46 of The King's Man 3

Two of the key herbs in the spell.

I whisper back, “We have to find more. Of everything.”

“The next town over might still have a supply. Try there.”

“Me?”

She nods. “You can’t perform the necessary spells without the herbs, you’ll only frustrate the patients if you’re here. Besides, you’ll be able to decoct immediately and cure the patients on your return.”

“Will you manage?”

“I have my needles.” She pauses. “Broths. Massage.”

“It’s not as effective as—”

“More effective than nothing. It’s what most kingdoms have.”

I grimace. “I’ll borrow the horse you lent Quin. Give me a few hours.”

I hurry down dirt roads that turn into narrow cobbled streets glistening with dewdrops that still haven’t met sunlight. There’s an eerie quiet as I hurry past the tiny timber-framed stores lining the alleys. There should be the humming of craftsmanship, a blacksmith’s hammer ringing, the flapping of housekeepers taking care of the washing. There should be the scents of midday stew coming from nearby houses. There should be smoke rising from chimneys.

Something’s off. My stomach twists sharply.

I move faster, feet slapping over stone, cloak whipping behind me as I careen into the main street.

Movement. A crowd gathering at the east gate.

I stop at the edges and ask what’s happening—

The clank of armour and whinnying horses steals everyone’s attention. A line of redcloaks on horseback is blocking the gates. They draw their swords when a group tries to pass.

Their captain, stern and weathered, raises a hand and projects his voice over the murmuring crowd. “Step back. Everyone, step back from the gates.”

Next to me, a young mother clutches her whimpering child. Ahead, the farmer who took Quin and me to town is leading his donkey by the reins. He’s stopped at swordpoint. “I have business a town over. It’s my living.”

The captain booms. “No one leaves.”

Anxious murmurs ripple through the crowd. My stomach twists again. I recall the men Quin and I overheard this morning.We have more pressing matters. Pack, get to the gates.

I’d thought they’d found a lead on Quin’s whereabouts, but this is bigger than that. I know what the captain will say, but I still feel the slam of shock when he says it.

“There’s an outbreak here. Until we learn more, we cannot risk it spreading. All the gates are being sealed.”

Cries ring out of the crowd, thick and fast.

“Three of my neighbours got fevers overnight.”

“I saw weird scales growing on my uncle’s legs—”

“I’m not sick, let me leave!”

Someone yells, “Let the healthy out.”

“We have innocent children here.” Mothers and fathers yelling over the little shoulders of their children. “You can’t trap them here to get infected!”

Two young men make a run for the gates; the captain raises a hand and blasts them back with magic. They fall, knocking people over. The crowd is growing restless, the bitter taste of blooming panic in the air.

The child next to me is crying; the mother hugs him tightly.

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