Page 56 of The Garnet Daughter
“You understand why we would like it if your stay was brief,” the old man continues.
“Then I will speak plainly,” Commander Wesley starts. “Mayor Everson from the town over mentioned a woman here, a healer. We require an audience.”
The old man considers, puckering his lips together. “What is your business with her?”
“I am under three worlds law in declining such inquiries, although as a show of good faith, I can tell you we simply have questions about a location deeper in the birthlands, none that will affect your village, I can assure you,” Commander Wesley vows.
“I’ll show them the way,” the seated son offers.
“You both will stay put.” The old man points a violently jabbing finger toward them, like he is sick of their input. “I will take you myself. As far as being granted inside, that is not up to me.”
“Thank you,” Commander Wesley says.
We follow the man through the village, weaving through barely visible alleyways that branch farther into the high-walled buildings. The only people we spot quickly enter their homes and shut the doors. It’s eerily silent, and the deeper we travel, the larger my sense of dread becomes.
“This is as far as I go.” The old man stops at a large building with a ratty cloth in the doorway. “I expect your ship departed from my dock before sundown.”
Commander Wesley nods.
The structure is an orange sandy hue, the windows warped and covered in a film of dust and old shutters. Not a sound comes from the inside or any of the homes around us.
“Whatever happened here, he does not want to tell us.” Commander Wesley’s helmet follows a line of smoke floating up into the sky from a building in the next alleyway.
“Why did he say this is as far as he goes?” I whisper to August.
“Maybethat’swhy,” August mutters.
A person is in the entrance, pulling at the material and appearing to gaze past us with eyes that are pale and lids that are so shaded, they have a violet hue. His hair is shorn and his tunic is white and crisp, standing out in the sand and grit-filled environment.
“Hello. We are looking for a woman named Maestra,” Commander Wesley states to the young man, unfazed by his appearance.
The young man nods and gestures for us to follow him into the building. A lingering smell of medicinal herbs floats on the air. Symbols adorn the old, crumbling walls close to the ceiling, ancient depictions of old gods and statues half crumbled of figures I do not recognize. The interior is sectioned off by tall curtains hanging from the walls on either side. More people with similar eyes as our guide rest on low metal beds, all in various stages of whatever ailment they are clearly suffering from. They are dressed in the same white clothing, but some have gauze wrapped around their eyes.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I whisper to August.
“It’s a sanitarium. They are all being treated here or . . . kept.” He flicks his chin to a person strapped to their bed, motionless and staring up at the ceiling with entirely white eyes.
Commander Wesley glances over his shoulder at the two of us behind him, making sure we noted it too.
The young man stops in front of a curtained off room and places a hand out for us to wait. He disappears inside, and after a moment pulls the curtain back, gesturing for us to enter.
“Welcome,” a woman with wild, curly hair pinned to the top of her head says as she glances up from her patient’s bedside. She hunches over her, removing a blindfold delicately.
“You are the healer called Maestra?” Commander Wesley asks.
“I am.” She pulls the last of the gauze from the woman’s eyes. “It is rare we have visitors so close to the conjunction.”
I step forward. Watching her work reminds me of Ruth, and the unsettled feeling that built as we walked through her residence floats away.
“Maestra, I am called Calliape. You may have some information for us that would be very helpful.”
She smiles at me, looking at my hands and clothing. “A child of Frith. Are you a divine one?”
“I would rather not say.”
“A true Frithian wouldn’t.” She smiles again and turns her back to me, fetching something from the many drawers lining the far wall.
“We are searching for a temple,” I add.
